


Begin Again

by slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Awkward Tension, Babies, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Fatherhood, Friendship, Humor, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, Loss of Identity, Magic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Romance, Sexual Content, Trials, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl/pseuds/slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Witnesses' deal with the trials of ever pressing darkness in the world, Katrina Crane, freshly freed from Purgatory, must deal with her own trials involving this new, strange land and the unborn child she's carried for over two centuries. Post Season 1. All from Ichabod's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here's the start of another Ichatrina fic. It won't be too long. My outline had about twenty chapters.
> 
> It's basically taking place after season one with significant differences. No Henry. Katrina and Ichabod have only interacted that one time during the Pilot when she told him where to find Headless' head. He and Abbie freed her from Purgatory without any weird stuff happening. No one gets stuck in Purgatory. They simply free her.
> 
> I wrote this as an idea for Ichabod to be the kind of caring husband he always spoke of being. His speech in the Indispensable Man episode about how when he and Katrina were reunited, he would cherish her as never before is literally going to happen in this fic. The dude needs a job and to take care of his traumatized wife while helping his fellow Witness deal with the Apolcalypse. Let's see if he can handle it, or crack under the pressure. I also want to delve into his insecurities as a man surrounded by women who take care of him. I can't imagine any real man, especially one from Ichabod's time, being alright with not pulling his own weight, or taking care of things that need doing. I want to show how he feels underneath his pride; the slight emasculation he may feel as well as some vulnerability over ever being able to fit in and care for his family in a world he daily struggles to understand.
> 
> Anyway, now that I've given the whole plot away...

Hands flying over the various pots and pans spread along the kitchen cabinet, he was doing his best to keep the level of racket to a minimum. However, his frazzled nerves had him fumbling over the silver cookware, making it sound like he was beating them against the wall rather than making a simple pot of tea. As he poured some of the steaming liquid into a white ceramic mug, he glanced up to search out the hunched figure who was staring into the flickering flames of the hearth. When he noticed the significant lack of movement since the last time he'd gazed across the room, he felt his spirits deflate even further.

What could he say? Should he say anything at all? Perhaps silence was best. Then again, he couldn't imagine the beautifully, tormented soul warming by the fire needed anymore silence. He knew he would certainly prefer to speak if he'd endured so long without such a freedom. Though, at present, he could think of nothing to begin speaking about. Should he start with how she feels? Does she need anything? Is she cold? Too warm? Perhaps, she'd like a quilt? Or a change of clothing?

He glanced at the small, one bedroom door connected to the kitchen and sincerely hoped she didn't ask for a change of clothes as he had none to offer her. Why hadn't he prepared for this? He'd been working toward freeing her for months. Surely, he should have thought to acquire some clothing and essentials for her beforehand. Had he become a complete imbecile during his time in this century? How could he have been so thoughtless?

With a weary sigh, he lifted the hot mug and approached his beloved with wary steps. Never before had he been so uncertain of what to say to her. Even during their time of courting, he'd been more sure of himself, which was saying a great deal. He'd felt like such a clumsy fool while in her presence in those days; like everything he said and did was something worth being ridiculed or teased. She'd never done so, though. She'd always laughed at his jokes and smiled in such a way that had her eyes creasing with joy at his voice.

Now, though, he found himself at a loss. Since freeing her from that Hell she'd endured for the last two hundred and thirty-one years not an hour passed, they'd barely spoken. There'd been a sweet moment of joy on her part at being set free, but, after that, she'd immediately closed off from him; going so far as to have barely even touched him since their reunion. It disappointed him right down to his very core. However, there was something clearly happening to her he couldn't quite wrap his mind around. To him, she seemed like something akin to a wary cat; always waiting for the other shoe to drop; perhaps even waiting to awaken from the dream she surely felt she was in.

"I made you some tea."

Her green eyes darted up to him, wide and searchingly, as she startled and sat straighter. It almost seemed as though she'd forgotten he existed entirely.

"Oh."

Internally questioning whether her reply was a thanks for the tea, or a rejection of his offering, he remained where he was; standing alongside the sofa and wondering what to do with himself. Should he set the tea down? Should he take it back? Did she even want him in her presence at all?

"Uhm..." he squinted as his gaze darted from her blank stare to the steaming cup, then back again.

Seeming to understand his predicament, she gave the smallest smile he'd ever witnessed grace the face which had always held him captive and held out her slender hands for the mug.

Thankful for her acceptance, despite it seeming to be forced, he carefully handed the tea off and shifted his stance to that of an observer as she took a small sip.

"Is it to your liking?" he asked with a measure of uncertainty. "I can make another pot if-"

"No, it's lovely," she assured as she settled it in her lap; the white mug a stark contrast to the black dress. "Thank you."

Glad to have pleased her in some small way, he nodded rather dumbly and once again shifted his feet while doing his best not to blatantly stare at her. However, the way she was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth combined with her shifty eyes and fidgety fingers had him wondering if he was imagining her discomfort with him. What reason would she have to be uncomfortable around him? Had he done something to displease her? Perhaps, she was worried over his thoughts of her being a witch. She needn't worry over that. Regardless of that pang of hurt he'd felt over her secret, he loved her no less for it. She was still his beloved.

"Katrina?"

Upon her olive green eyes slowly rising to meet his searching gaze, he asked rather nervously, "Are you not happy to be with me?"

The way her eyes immediately widened told him he was on the wrong track before she ever uttered the first syllable.

"Of course, I'm happy to be with you," she whispered through a cracked voice. "It's all I've wanted for so long."

Allowing a sigh of relief to slip from him, he took a careful seat beside her, making sure to not move too quickly, or sit too closely. The last thing he wanted was to cause her to dash from his presence altogether.

"You've spoken very little since the Leftenant and I found you."

Her throat gave a heavy bob as she swallowed and nodded; her eyes void of any of the light he so loved. "I'm simply..." She shook her head as her eyes fell closed, a weariness consuming her lovely features he wished he could banish altogether. "Things are so different now and I find myself afraid."

Unable to stand going without her touch for a moment longer, especially considering the lost expression she bore, he scooted closer to her and brushed a few locks of russet hair behind her ear. "You needn't fear anything. I know how terrifying it is to enter into such a new world, but I can assist you, my love. I'll take care of you."

Once again, she shook her head and turned to look at him, her eyes filled with the tears that had the ability to set his pulse to racing and proceeded to do so. Why was she crying?

"That's not why-" She glanced down at the mug of tea as a few tears leaked over her lids and down her cheeks; glistening in the light of the hearth. "I have something to share with you; something... I've been wanting to share with you for a very long time."

More than a little dumbfounded, he asked, "What is it?"

When she seemed reluctant to continue, he caressed her ear and pressed, "My love, whatever it is, you can tell me. There's nothing in this world you need fear sharing with me."

Ever so slowly, her glistening green eyes returned to his. "Ichabod... I... I'm with child."

Unsure he'd correctly heard her, but knowing in his heart he simply needed to hear it again, he whispered in a cracked voice, "You're...? What?"

"My coven..." she weakly elaborated; her eyes focused directly on his. "After I buried you in that cave, I was preparing to sail to England in the hopes of finding a cure for you when they banished me to Purgatory."

She paused and set her mug of tea on the coffee table before situating her hands in her lap and fixing her stare on them. It seemed to him that she felt more comfortable when she wasn't looking at him. When had they grown so far apart? Had her time in Purgatory lessened her love for him? Her desire to feel his gaze upon her? At one time, she'd sworn so long as his eyes were on her, she had the confidence to do anything; that his love gave her the strength she needed to pick herself up and carry on even in the weakest of moments.

"Before I could board the ship, they detained me and dragged me into the woods away from prying eyes where they proceeded to demand I tell them where you were hidden." Her eyes slid to his as her tears began dripping from her chin and finding a home on her twisting hands below. "I vehemently refused and prayed that when I told them I was carrying a child it would cause them to lessen the severity of their punishment. However, they said our child's life didn't outweigh the world's need for protection. When I still refused to give you up... They cast me into Purgatory."

Throughout her entire tale, he'd forced himself to remain silent and still, but the moment those last words tumbled from her lips, he found himself bolting from the sofa and taking to pacing in front of the flaming hearth; his mind a swirling rage.

"Those..." He clenched his fists, choosing to keep the curses to himself. "How could they be so callous toward you?"

"They were doing what they thought best at the time."

He spun on her so fast he had to catch himself on the back of the chair to keep from toppling right over. "You're defending them? After they put you in that hell?"

Her eyes softened as she spoke. "I accepted their indifference as they did not share my love for you, Ichabod. However, my understanding of their choice ended the moment they refused to allow my sentencing to await the birth of our child."

Our child.

Two simple words strung together that were beginning to change his entire outlook on life.

Heart feeling as though it were lodged in his throat, he whispered, "You're with child; my child. I'm... going to be a father."

A momentary frown creased her brow and he knew she must be thinking he had lost all sanity. Minutes had passed since she'd revealed that news to him, yet he was only just now feeling the information actually sink into him. However, all resemblance of confusion left her as a small smile crept over her lips, the woman he'd fallen in love with all those years ago finally making an appearance in her eyes. "You are."

For some reason, he couldn't return her smile. He wasn't sure if it was the shock of realizing he was going to be a father, or something else entirely. He only stood still with an expressionless face; most, if not all, rational thought escaping him.

Which was something she noticed as her smile faded to be replaced with a worry filled gaze; her fingers once again taking to fidgeting. "Are... are you displeased?" She looked as though he'd taken her spirits and crushed them further than Moloch, himself. "I know you must be shocked. We weren't attempting to conceive and ... while I'm sure if I'd known I was with child and told you then..." She swallowed and beseeched him through her glistening green eyes. "My love, please say something; anything. If you're angry with this news..."

Forcing himself to set aside his own selfish need for time to absorb the information he felt he was being bombarded with rather unexpectedly in order to acknowledge her obvious need for comfort, he stepped around the coffee table and took her hands in his own before reaching to wipe his thumb over her damp cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I simply..."

He stared down at her slim waist, wondering if it had changed in appearance at all. Was she showing signs he'd simply missed? She certainly didn't seem to be. How far along was she? When did they create the life within her? How had she remained pregnant all this time?

"I never imagined in my wildest dreams..."

"I shouldn't have kept it from you," she whispered softly as her fingers threaded through his. "But we only encountered each other that one time after you awoke and..." Her eyes fell once more as a look of inexplicable grief passed over her features. "I wasn't sure you'd be able to free me. I didn't want you to carry the burden that it wasn't only me trapped in that horrible place. The very idea that you'd have to live out your days knowing I was forever trapped in that hell with our unborn child..."

A knot began to form in his throat as he considered all she'd been through. How was she even still functioning enough to relay all of this information to him? If their roles had been reversed, he wasn't so sure he would still have his sanity intact. No, he was positive his sanity would have slipped by this point. Just waking in this new world had nearly overwhelmed him. Where was she finding her strength?

"I understand, but..." He grasped her hands more tightly as he dipped his head to catch those green eyes he so adored. "No more secrets, Katrina."

He lifted his hand and trailed his fingers over her lips; unable to stop the shudder that ran through him at the feel of her soft skin. "I want to know every part of you; all the good, the bad, and everything in between."

"I promise," she earnestly replied with an almost compulsive-looking nod of her head. "I'll never keep anything else from you for as long as I live."

Allowing his first true smile of the night to creep over his face, he slid his fingers into her thick russet hair and pulled her body closer into his; reveling in the warmth he'd so missed.

There was a great deal more that needed to be discussed between them. However, for just a moment in time, he felt the need to hold her; to assure her that he was here and the burden she'd carried for so long need not rest solely on her shoulders any longer.

"I suppose this is where we begin again, isn't it?"

Her fingers tangled in his shirt as she relaxed against him; her eyes trained on the dancing flames of the hearth. "So long as we begin together, I feel as though I could endure anything."

As he continued to run his fingers through her silky hair, he whispered, "I'd not have it any other way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty then, there's the start. I hope it's to all you lovelies liking enough to stick with me.
> 
> Next up: More contemplation of father hood, telling Abbie, and some freaking out from Ichabod.


	2. Chapter 2

She looked so peaceful.

Her eyes were closed; her lids and long lashes blinking every so often in sleep. Her thick hair was fanned out over the pillows; the red a stark contrast to the white material. The sheets and blankets covering her were draped over her perfectly as he'd pulled them up to her shoulders to ward off the cool morning air. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel discomfort due to something as trivial as the weather. That was something he could help; something he could actually fix.

If only everything else could be as easily dealt with.

For the past half hour, he'd contented himself with watching her sleep; ever grateful for the chance to actually do so again when not so long ago he'd thought he'd lost her forever. The very idea of never falling asleep in her warm embrace again... Or never feeling the soft brush of her lips against his... It was unfathomable. The utter despair he would have fallen prey to. His love. His reason for picking himself up everyday; for fighting for a better world. She was all he'd ever really wanted. For so long, he'd thought honor and prestige would give him the happiness he'd longed for as a boy, but he'd been so very wrong. All the knowledge and power in the world couldn't compare to the caress of her hand; to that special look in her eyes which she saved solely for him. Nothing could compare to the way she made him feel.

Nothing.

Now, though, he had something even more miraculous. A baby. His and Katrina's baby. The very thought of it brought a smile to his face. After they'd married, the war had began so quickly that they'd decided to wait on having children. In a world where they both could be gone the next day due to the danger involved in their occupations, they'd feared leaving any child they may have had with no one to care for it. However, that hadn't stopped the deep longing in his heart and he knew Katrina had felt the same. A child, a physical representation of their love and all they'd overcome to be together, was everything they'd wanted. It was what they'd fought for every day.

The only problem was that now they were in an even larger war; one much more dangerous than the previous one he'd thought he was fighting. This wasn't a regular scuffle between men pushing a cause. This was supernatural; demonic. How could he protect a child from things he couldn't even at times see? How could he assure his son or daughter that all would be well? That he or she would grow up in a world in which they were safe?

The answer is, he couldn't.

Neither he nor Katrina could ever be sure they'd be here tomorrow to protect their precious creation. He wasn't even sure he would be able to properly raise a child in a world he was accustomed to, much less the one he now found himself in. After six months of living in the twenty-first century, he felt as if he'd still only just stepped into it yesterday. There was simply so much to learn; so much happening in day to day life. He'd been worrying enough over how he was going to help Katrina adjust in a world he was still unadjusted to. How could he do the same with a child? Would he forever be a failure when it came to teaching his child even the most basic knowledge? He'd once prided himself on being more advanced than most, more intelligent, but now he could barely get through the day without looking like a complete buffoon.

The creak of the front door pulled his gaze from his slumbering love and conflicted thoughts to the open bedroom door where he found Abbie entering the cabin with a large bag in hand. Her eyes danced about for a moment before settling on him. An apologetic smile then graced her face as he carefully slipped from the bed, making sure not to awaken Katrina who was still soundlessly sleeping.

"Hey, sorry," Abbie apologized as he closed the bedroom door behind him. "I didn't mean to disturb you guys. I just wanted to drop some stuff off for Katrina."

"Oh, no, I wasn't asleep," he assured with a tired smile as he gestured to the bag, curious as to its contents. "You've brought her something?"

Abbie gave an energetic nod as she set the bag on the sofa. "Yeah, I figured an eighteenth century dress might draw a little more attention than your own colonial clothing."

He chuckled at the image of he and Katrina walking down the modern streets of this century in their usual clothing. The idea of it was enough to bring a genuine smile to his face.

"You're ever thoughtful, Leftenant." He fixed her with soft eyes. "Thank you."

She waved her hand as though it were no big deal. However, he felt the need to express how, to him, it meant the world. He wasn't sure how he would ever have survived without her.

"It's truly the kindest gesture you could have made," he admitted as he fingered the bags' handle. "I shall never be able to repay such thoughtful kindness."

"Eh, I needed to clean my closet out anyway," she said as she shifted with mild discomfort. "Goodwill gets a visit from me about once a year. I figured why not help out a friend, instead?"

A low chuckle escaped him as he rested his hands over the back of the sofa. "I assure you that anything you offer will be accepted as a blessing. I must admit I had not thought ahead to such things as clothing for her."

"Yeah, well, you were kinda busy trying to do the near impossible by just getting her here," Abbie offered with an amused smile. "I think she might let that one slide."

Absentmindedly nodding along with her assessment, he fiddled with a loose thread along the back of the sofa, unsure how to broach the subject he knew he needed to discuss. With the thought of how wonderful a friend Abbie was, he felt a pain in his heart over the burdens he continually piled onto her shoulders. What sort of man had he become? When had he began to so heavily rely upon others for the things he should be doing himself?

"So, how is she?"

From her tone, he could tell there was a pinch of confusion about her, which, of course, made sense. There weren't many instances where he and Abbie entertained awkward silences, but they seemed to be setting a record at present. Over the course of his time in this century, Katrina had become a subject he both spoke a great deal of while never truly speaking about. It was as if he felt the need to win Abbie over with all of the wonderful qualities his wife possessed while keeping the truly intimate parts of their marriage to himself. It was only recently that he'd come to realize how genuine Abigail Mills' friendship was. He didn't need to give thousands of reasons as a plea for her to help save his wife. Abbie would help him regardless as she was simply a kind soul. Such a quality wasn't something he was entirely accustomed to and it was making him adjust some of the deeply engrained snap judgments he tended to make in regards to people as a whole.

It seemed his time of denial was at an end. So, after releasing a rather heavy sigh through his nose, he said, "She's tired as you can probably imagine."

"Yeah, two centuries without sleep will do that to a person."

He wished he could bring himself to smile at her lighthearted response. He truly did. However, the words weighing in his mind weren't permitting it. There simply wasn't an easy way to go about saying this.

"She's with child."

The occasional brush of a branch against the roof along with the soft tweeting of the birds outside were the only sounds that filled the cabin in the aftermath of his confession. It wasn't surprising to him. He hadn't expected an immediate congratulations. He wasn't sure he even deserved one at this moment what with all of the doubts that were currently circling in his mind.

"That means pregnant, right?" she asked in a tone he couldn't quite place, but thought might be somewhere along the vein of disbelief. "As in, a baby's currently cooking inside her?"

Slightly annoyed at her need to prolong his anticipation of knowing what she was thinking, he shifted his feet, which were rather chilly against the wooden floor, and gave her a withering stare. "If you don't object, I believe I prefer my phrasing."

As this was the first sight he'd caught of her since uttering the news, he took in her stiff jaw and crossed arms.

"I don't want to sound insensitive, Crane, but I have to ask this as not only your friend, but also as someone new to the supernatural." She then paused for a beat; a deeply concerned expression on her face. "Are you sure the baby's yours?"

A burning, one that had his heart pounding something fierce, began deep in his chest, something she must have noticed affecting him as she quickly added, "I just mean that it's been a really long time since you two were together and, the last time I checked, pregnancies last nine to ten months, not two hundred years. I'm just trying to understand how this is possible."

Doing his best to control himself and keep the next words out of his mouth from running rampant, he gripped the back of the sofa and took a deep breath. "I give you the fact that you don't know Katrina, have never laid eyes upon her before last night, but my wife loves me and would never do such thing to betray me. I'm more than positive that the child she carries is mine and mine alone."

Abbie held up her hands as her eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry. I just... this is a lot to take in and I want to make sure everything's as it should be, alright? I just don't want to see you hurt, Crane." She tilted her head forward as a means to catch his eyes, which he permitted as her gaze was filled with so much care. "I know you love her and... well, she went to hell for you so I guess that speaks volumes as to her love for you."

Squeezing his eyes shut to keep in the emotion which was attempting to break free of its cage, he lifted a hand to wipe down his face. "Forgive me, Leftenant. I'm simply rather stressed this morning. I know you only mean to protect me and I'm eternally grateful for your friendship, but..."

"It's a lot to take in," she softly offered.

For a few dozen heartbeats, he remained still as he forced himself to regain his composure. Then, he sought out her gaze again to find her staring at her boots rather than observing him in his distress. Eternal gratefulness once again filled him for her friendship.

"I haven't the slightest idea of what to think about this," he admitted as he felt his eyes begin to burn, despite his efforts to bite everything bubbling beneath the surface down. "I have no money; no means of transportation. I have no way to help myself or my wife much less a living, breathing child."

He shook his head as the weight of his situation began suffocating him. "I only just reunited with Katrina after learning she's a witch. If that wasn't enough to process and worry over, now she's carrying my child and ..." He stared at Abbie with a lost feeling in his gut; one that had him feeling like the most useless being on the planet. "I don't know how to be a father; how to care for a child on my best day." He flung a hand toward the door as if it were the villain haunting his nightmares. "How am I to do that here? How am I to provide for my family, for the one's I love most, when I can't even provide for myself? This is a world that neither Katrina nor I will ever completely understand. How are we to raise a child here?"

Not waiting for a response, he threw his hands up and began pacing the length of the sitting area. "None of this is even to mention the fact that we're attempting to prevent the Apocalypse. We're fighting a war that will determine the fate of every man, woman, and child. How can I do that while trying to also care for my family? Both are such important missions; missions that require every ounce of attention I possess, yet I'll be expected to attend to both. How am I to do such a thing?"

When he finally met Abbie's gaze as she'd remained quiet throughout his entire rant, he found her pursing her lips with a thoughtful expression on her face. The sight caused him to immediately feel guilty for carrying on the way he had been. None of this was her burden to bear, yet she was standing there, as resolute as ever, listening to him moan and groan about himself.

"Those are all very good questions," she said as she crossed her arms. "Have you talked to Katrina about any of this?"

Feeling himself deflate like a balloon, he once again took up his place behind the rocker and answered, "How could I? I only just freed her from a two century sentence in a form of Hell. How could I burden her with such worries as this when I'm sure she's terrified of everything else happening around her?"

"Crane," Abbie said softly, even brandishing a crooked smile. "She loves you. Isn't that supposed to mean that whatever bothers you, bothers her, too? You and I might be in this war together, but you and Katrina are about to face your own little battle. You need to stick together and communicate. That's the only way you're going to figure all of this out."

"But the finances-"

"Don't worry about that right now," she cut in with a raised hand. "That baby won't be here for a long time and I'm sure we'll have something figured out by then. Let that be tomorrow's worry, alright? We have enough concerns today without borrowing worry we don't need right now."

Forcing himself to take a deep breath and actually hear her words rather than attempt to respond to them, he reluctantly nodded. "Thank you, Abbie. I'm not sure where I'd be without you."

"Probably rotting in an asylum."

Chuckling at her attempt to diffuse the tension in the room, he shook his head with a grin.

"Now," she went on as she backed toward the door. "I'm gonna go. You, mister, go get back in bed with your wife."

He moved to object to her leaving so soon, especially without even a proper invitation to breakfast as a thank you for all she'd done. However, she held up her hand again, once more making him feel like a schoolboy being lectured. "I'm sure it would make her really happy to wake up to you, don't you think?"

Unable to deny such a thought or the knowing look on her face, he allowed all the air he'd been planning to object with seep from his nose as his shoulders straightened even further. Why did she always have to be the one who was right?

"I believe your assertion may have some measure of truth, Leftenant."

With a roll of her eyes, she opened the door and waved over her shoulder. "I'll see you, Crane."

Once the door was closed, he gave a weary sigh over being left to himself and stood there until he heard her vehicle departing. She was right, of course. She always was. Katrina would likely bask in his presence if he was there upon her waking.

Before she'd fallen asleep the previous night, she'd admitted to him that his arms were the safest place she knew and that when she was wrapped in his embrace, the world wasn't such a scary place.

If that's what would make her happy, who was he to deny her such a thing after all she'd endured for him?

Quietly padding back into the bedroom, he observed her still sleeping form; unmoved from the place he'd earlier left her. She was such a sight to behold; her red hair fanned out over the pillows and her eyelids furiously blinking in sleep. He wasn't sure he'd ever enjoyed a more pleasant sight. Never again would he take something as simple as watching her sleep for granted again.

With that thought, he carefully pulled back the blankets and slipped into the space beside her, making sure not to jostle the bed and awaken her.

The cool sheets welcomed him and when he was sure she was still sleeping, he crept his hand around her waist and snuggled close to her; wanting the contentment that came with her body pressed against his.

Her head rolled to the side slightly, causing him to fear he'd fumbled and awoken her, but she settled soon enough, her body once more still in sleep.

Now sure she wasn't going to awaken, he took to staring at his beloved's sweet face. The few freckles that dotted her cheeks were so light he'd truly not noticed them until after they'd married and was given free reign to watch her sleep. He recalled the discovery delighting him as every new fact he had learned about her in that time period had seemed like the discovery of the Holy Grail itself.

While her green eyes, flecked with various golds and browns, were his favorite feature of hers by far, he found that while she was sleeping, he rather enjoyed observing the light twitching of her lips; their smooth texture mesmerizing him and always causing the urge to kiss her to fill him.

As his eyes lingered on her plump lips, he considered that he'd yet to kiss her since their reunion and suddenly found himself wondering when the right time would be. Should he simply kiss her as though no time had passed at all? Or would it be better to make it an affair? It didn't seem right to ignore the fact that it had been over two centuries since they'd last felt the gentle caress of their lovers' lips.

Too many possibilities and decisions weighed upon him, prompting him to cast them aside and ease his head closer to hers. Gently touching her forehead with his, he breathed in her natural scent; delighting in the familiarity it brought to him. She smelled of the earth and another smell that was distinctly Katrina. He had no word to describe the smell that was hers and hers alone. The best he could come to was that she smelled like the air just before a spring rain. It was daring and exciting; giving the sense that the world was about to change.

As he relaxed into the sheets, he wrapped his finger in a loose thread hanging from the shirt he'd loaned her the night before; his last thoughts lingering with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: A morning spent together. Exploring a bit of modern technology. Confrontations and doubts over a magical baby.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to say that even though I don't watch Sleepy Hollow anymore, I'm still deeply in love with Ichabod and Katrina. To heck with the show. They had a great love story to slowly reveal as a backdrop to the Witnesses fight against evil and they messed it up every chance they got. Betsy freaking who?

The feel of warm sunshine caressing his skin as he lay amidst soft sheets and tangled blankets had become his favorite greeting to each new day. While this new time he found himself existing in often terrified and overwhelmed him, there was something so simple and beautiful about the morning hours. Perhaps, the first stirrings of a new day were a recall to an old life; a common occurrence he was accustomed to already as nothing in nature really changed. It could also be the fact that at this point in the new day he'd yet to stumble across anything too odd or difficult to understand. He was still safe from anything other than the comfort of his bed's embrace and the sweet dreams which had come before.

This morning, however, was different. Upon stirring, the first thing that had truly occurred to his conscious mind was the sound of birds going about their business outside the bedroom window. That was an expected sound as it was what he awoke to every morning, but the real difference came in the following moments; a difference that, at first, nearly made him jump out of his skin. It was the feel of fingers lightly stroking his bearded jaw. Such a realization as someone being in bed with him had him quite too tense to move.

Then, ever so slowly, the familiarity became too much to ignore and, before he knew it, he found himself fighting a smile as the knowledge of who was touching him sank in.

"It's nice to see two centuries hasn't changed your insufferable need to watch me sleep."

The tinkling of her silvery laughter warmed his ears and a breathless feeling consumed him as he opened his eyes to see a bright smile greeting him from her seated position at his side. It seemed almost as though he were still dreaming what with the way the sun was dancing along her fiery hair; making her seem like she might be some tempting angel he may never have the joy of holding again.

Lifting his hand to cover hers and hopefully dash away any doubts of her being a beautiful reality, he felt his heart swell at the warmth of her skin. So in awe of her, he couldn't help his whisper of, "You're here."

The flutter of her eyelids told of her surprise as she regarded him with an ever softening smile. "Where I belong."

Perhaps, he should admit how deeply her words sunk into his heart, but he couldn't bring himself to utter the shameful darkness that was his life without her. He wasn't yet ready to confess to her how many nights he'd screamed at the darkness, begging and pleading for it to return her to him.

No, instead, he asked, "How long have you been awake?"

Her shoulders gave a half shrug as she continued smiling at him; the wizened brilliance of her eyes holding him in place. "I'm not quite sure. Tracking time seems so trivial to me now." Her eyes fell to their hands, where she began tracing her thumb over his knuckles with light strokes. "A moment spent with you now seems like a lifetime of sought after dreams coming to pass."

Well, he could certainly become accustomed to her speaking in such a way. "I did promise you that if you married me, I'd treat you better than any dream you could muster."

Eyes glinting in the morning sunlight, she tilted her head with a thoughtful look. "You asking me to marry you was better than any fairytale I've ever heard spoken."

With a grunt, his hand fell to her waist. "Your father didn't think so."

"Neither did yours," she added softly.

It was true. While her father had been thoroughly put out by his only daughter up and daring to go against society's rules in the name of love, it was _his_ father who had been the tempest that had nearly ruined them before they had began. His father's first letter after he had defected had been to berate him and demand his return. The second had been a manipulation device in the guise of his mother's ill health due to his choices. The third and final had been to disown him as his son as the reality of a wife seemed to be the nail in the coffin of him ever returning home. His father had known well enough that his taking a wife meant he was sure in his choice to remain in the colonies. The final letter had forbidden him from ever returning to his childhood home.

While he'd always been sure in his decision to fight for his beliefs and marry for love, the idea that he would never again see his family after the war had found its end had nearly driven him mad for a time. Katrina had done everything she was supposed to do; everything possible to do. She'd been his shoulder to weep on, his encourager, his ever strong supporter. She'd been everything he loved and admired.

However, in his youth and idiocy, he'd finally pushed her away, nearly ending their engagement altogether. It had seemed set in stone that he would forever punish himself with guilt for disrespecting his family in such a fashion as he had, forever refuse to allow himself any happiness, but Katrina hadn't had any of it. After a week of his avoiding her, she'd busted into his barracks, thrown his boots at him, and told him to rise up and marry her before she murdered him herself. Even to this day, he still wasn't sure if he'd done as she'd said in that moment because of the love they'd shared, or because of the clear intent within her to do just as she'd threatened shining in her determined olive eyes. By that night's passing, they'd become man and wife; one flesh for eternity. It was a choice he'd never once regretted.

"I've never been so happy to admit I was a disobedient child."

Her returned smile at his words brought his grin out in full force. Nothing made him happier than seeing her happy.

"You can't possibly imagine how dearly I treasured waking to you this morning," she whispered as her fingers skimmed his chest. "I honestly never thought I'd experience such a precious moment again."

A barely evident tremor in her voice, one he only knew due to years of studying her, prompted him to push himself up to sit face to face with her and lift a hand to cup her neck, praying all the while that she could see the sincerity exuding from him during his next words. "I can imagine it just perfectly. When I arrived in this strange world and found that gravestone with your name on it..."

No words could truly describe the feeling which had overcome him that night all those months ago.

Her hands came to rest on either side of his face as she leaned within a breath of him. "Oh, my love, please forgive me. I never meant to cause you such pain. If there had been any other way, please know that I would have sought it out. I would have given anything, paid any price..."

Vision blurring, he dipped his head to capture her lips in the kiss he'd dreamed of all night; the one that had haunted his dreams, begging to be made a reality.

The sweet feel of her smooth flesh slipping along his was dizzying in how deeply it affected him. The depth of control she had over him, from the rhythm of his breathing to the flush of his cheeks, should have been a discomforting talent to him, but admittedly he thrived from it. She released him of responsibility in these moments, of the need to discern and ferret out the reasons for why or how things happened. He did very little thinking when with her in this way, something he was unaccustomed to in his life's journey. Being a man with so much knowledge swimming in his mind often placed overwhelming amounts of stress on his shoulders. So, to be able to release some of his control to her, to be weak in her arms, was such an intensely gratifying feeling to him.

Soon enough, his fingers were threaded through her thick, silky hair; the desire to feel the full effect of kissing her having him pull her closer. She was so soft, so welcoming, that he wondered how he'd survived a day without her, much less months on end that had seemed to bear no hope for their entwined futures.

If he could have damned the need to breath to hell, he would have, but it eventually became too much of a necessity to ignore as he pulled back from her kiss and rested his forehead to hers; their mingled breaths washing over their faces respectively.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered as he slid his hands along her shoulders and down her arms. "My beautiful, Katrina."

After a moment, she pulled away and fixed him with a thin smile. "I-is there anywhere I could wash for the day?" She dropped her eyes to the thin shirt covering her upper body and began fidgeting with the material. "I don't want to-"

The realization that she was self-conscious of her appearance and hygiene occurred to him. It had been so long since he'd seen her worry over such things. In truth, they could both use some time to freshen up. Morning breath wasn't the most romantic of smells, but it was a scent he adored, not because of the smell, but because of the intimacy it spoke of.

Lifting her chin so he could catch her hesitant eyes, he assured, "You could be wearing a feed sack and smell like the back end of a mule and I'd still desire you like a man dying of unbearable thirst."

The fight she was now putting up with the grin attempting to take over her face was obvious in the twitching of her lips. "Be that as it may..."

Not caring to hide his own grin, he pushed himself up from the bed and bowed low to her with his hand held out to her. "My lady?"

The fight was over as her grin was now on full display as she took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"Now, for your first lesson," he began as he led her toward the bathroom. "You should know that this is going to be the most glorious bit of learning you may ever encounter in this century."

To his delight, her eyebrows knitted as she took in the plain shower curtain. "What is it?"

Eagerly pushing the curtain back, he bent to turn the water on before activating the mechanism which shot the water from the faucet overhead. When he was satisfied with the temperature, he took her hand and smiled reassuringly in light of her wide eyes as he guided it under the water.

Her subsequent squeal brought a bubble of laughter from him as her hand jerked back. "It's warm!"

Quickly nodding his agreement, he said, "It's astounding, is it not?"

She seemed to be mesmerized as she stuck her hand under the water again, slowly testing the new discovery. "Is this where I'm meant to cleanse?"

With a shrug of his shoulders, he said, "Unless you'd prefer a bath? I could draw one for you."

"No," she quickly replied with a reassuring smile. "This is fine."

Satisfied she would be alright, he showed her how to work the knobs then left her to her own devices after bringing her the bag Abbie had so graciously brought earlier, which had surprisingly contained detailed instructions on just about everything Katrina needed to know; from the use of deodorant to the art of shaving.

Now, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, nervously tapping his feet in anticipation of her emergence or possible call for help. As he waited, he considered their first morning together to be going smoothly. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he'd taken more than a small measure of pride in being able to teach her how to operate the shower. For him, for once, to be the one with knowledge of a modern contraption filled him with the confidence he'd been sorely lacking for some time.

Though, he was grateful to Abbie for all the care she'd shown while being patient with him, it infuriated him to no end that he was helpless in most situations. He often attempted to cast his lack of knowledge off as though he were fine, but, deep down, he felt completely emasculated.

To have to ask for help, be weak, was not something he was accustomed to being. Sure, every now and then, it was fine; small doses and nothing more. However, apart from his random offerings of knowledge from his time about some important figure or another, he contributed little; he accomplished little.

In his time, he'd been a man in every sense of the word. He'd worked for his earnings, provided for his wife, and had been a respected member of his town. People had known his name, not because he'd made an unintentional fool of himself, or stuck out like a sore thumb, but because he was a true colonist and hero.

Not here, though.

No, here, he was like a dog begging to be fed. He was of little import to the town as a whole. No one knew his name, or had any respect for him. He had no job, or means to contribute to society. He was a helpless burden and he just knew it wouldn't be long before Katrina, his beloved wife, would see him as less than a man as well. She'd never say it in a thousand years as her love for him ran too deeply, but she'd think it. Surely, before the week let out, she'd notice how little he contributed to their new life, how little he had to offer; save for his unyielding love.

What would he say when she broached such a topic? When she asked about the food, or lack thereof, on their table? How would she react to their lack of funds to provide for the arrival of their child?

Of course, thoughts of their child often derailed his more logical thoughts altogether. Did magical children even arrive naturally? Were they born with powers?

Suddenly images of a baby, one deformed and unnatural, began swimming in his vision. Physically shaking himself of such thoughts, he jerked his hands to his eyes in an attempt to rub the images away.

"Ichabod?"

Her voice, soft and full of concern, brought his eyes up to find her standing in the open doorway; her hair wet and pulled over one shoulder. However, that wasn't what caught his gaze. It was the vast amount of skin below her lower region; smooth legs exposed to just above her knee where the thin, yellow dress she wore ended.

How a creature of such beauty had ever thought to look upon his lanky, clumsy self never ceased to completely befuddle him. Was any man truly worthy of such beauty to feast upon? To touch? Oh, how he'd missed touching her. Her smooth porcelain skin warming his rough hands. The soft sounds she'd exhaled as he worshipped her.

His stare must have begun to worry her as she cast a nervous glance down her body. "Is-is this alright?"

Nearly choking on the buildup of saliva in his mouth, he managed a cracked, "Yes."

Her previously concerned gaze was now fighting a grin as she approached the bed; a lighter step in her stride. "Is this the sort of fashion acceptable in this era? To show so much of one's body?"

Chuckling to cover the rising blush on his neck and cheeks, he gently grasped her hand and pulled her to sit beside him. "My love, I barely knew the fashion in our time."

The smile that lit her face was brilliant as she gazed down at their interlocked hands. "Is it acceptable for you?"

Gently grasping her chin in his fingers, he tilted her face toward his. "You're the most beautiful creature this world ever thought to bring forth. Anything you wear is acceptable to me."

The subtle change in her breathing wasn't lost to him, nor was the way her eyes fluttered as she stared into his own. If he had the power, he'd freeze this moment in time; the simplicity of it.

However, the growling of her stomach broke the spell they seemed to be under.

With a chuckle, he pushed a few locks of damp hair behind her ear and asked, "Are you hungry?"

She gave a half shrug as she brought a hand to rest against her belly; a playful smile on her lips. "Well, I am carrying _your_ child. I imagine I'll remain hungry for the duration of his or her stay within me."

Rather than joining her in her joy, he once again felt the weight of responsibility and fear begin to suffocate him. Quickly standing, he walked across the room to obtain his shirt, making sure to keep his back to her in the process. The last thing he wanted was for her to sense his doubts, something he knew she would see in him if she were to even glimpse his expression. No one could read his emotions in quite the same way she could.

As he pulled the material over his head, he sucked in a deep breath and forced a smile to his face before turning back to her.

"I suppose I should feed you, then."

The hint of a frown creased her brow, causing his heart to all but momentarily halt. Had he failed at keeping her happy already? Was she searching his eyes and finding all the things he was keeping buried inside?

Not wishing to give her too much time to consider his actions, he cleared his throat and gestured toward the bedroom door. "Is there anything in particular you'd like? I suppose I can manage most simple dishes."

A small smile finally graced her face, much to his relief, as she stood. "Can you? Last I was aware, you could barely boil water. It's a wonder you ever survived the war for as long as you did."

Unable to help rolling his eyes, he stepped forward and grasped her hand. "I assure you, I've made a great deal of progress in the area of cooking. There's quite a few television programs that explain the process quite well and with much more patience than you."

"Television programs?" she asked as her eyes danced around the room; flitting over the various objects she'd likely not be in the state of mind to take in the previous night.

"Oh," he replied, laughter bubbling from him at the realization that she didn't know what he was speaking of. "You must see this."

All but dragging her to the sitting area, he pulled her down on the sofa and reached for the control. Pressing the appropriate button, he watched the television spring to life before turning to observe her reaction.

He wasn't disappointed as she immediately jumped up and circled the table to kneel in front of it; her eyes wide with curiosity. "How is this possible?"

Grinning with the knowledge that he would once again have the opportunity to explain, he followed her to the floor. "I assure you, this is by far one of the least remarkable advancements this century has to offer."

Her eyes flickered up to him, dancing with mirth. "Will you show me?"

Overcome with joy at such an innocent request, he reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. "I'd be honored."

The responding smile he received filled him with the energy he'd been lacking. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the kitchen and had her stand beside the stove as he turned the knobs. When the pilot lit, Katrina gave a sharp gasp and leaned over to inspect it more closely.

"I don't understand," she said as she scrutinized the sight before her. "How is it lit?"

"The world is far more advanced than you could ever imagine, my love. The wonders of it never seem to cease."

Her eyes sought his out as a bright smile graced her face; a touch of wonder present in her olive orbs. "You know so much about it."

"Oh," he sighed as he gave her a small smile. "I assure you, I'm not as well versed in modern technology as I may be demonstrating."

Before he barely managed to get the words out, he noticed her smile waver and her eyes give off a glisten as though she may be about to cry. Concerned she may have burned, or injured herself in some way, he stepped closer to her.

"Katrina?"

She despondently shook her head as she whispered, "I feel you'll grow tired of my questions after a time."

Taken aback at her turn in mood, he grasped her hand in his and lifted it to his lips where he placed a gentle kiss to her palm. "To be with you here is the greatest joy I've had in such a long while. I could _never_ grow tired of you."

Without another word, she fell into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist as she wept against his shirt.

Unsure how to handle this turn of events, he laid a hand to the back of her head and held her close.

"My love," he softly said as he rubbed circles on her back with his other hand. "I find myself at a loss as to what you need."

"I-" She eased from him just enough to where he could catch her eyes, giving him a view of her tear streaked face. "Forgive me, my love. I-I don't know why I've fallen into such a state."

Lifting a hand to caress her cheek, he asked with more than a little concern, "Is it something to do with Purgatory?"

"No," she said with a heavy sniff. "I think it might be the baby."

Eyebrows darting up at such a thought, he glanced down at her belly and wondered how the baby could be making her cry. With all of the many subjects he's had at his disposal in his lifetime, pregnancy hadn't been one he'd thought important. In fact, he was beginning to realize he knew little to nothing about the process other than how their child had been created.

"Is it hurting you?" he asked, his fears growing. "Is it something to do with magic?"

The fear of having an abnormal child once again flooded him and he immediately felt guilty for such thoughts. Katrina would be so wounded if she knew his inner doubts. That he could think their child abnormal was to also think her abnormal and that was something he couldn't quite reconcile within himself. He still hadn't truly worked out all of the details concerning the fact that his wife was a witch for himself. All he really knew was that he loved her regardless.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "No, of course not."

"Then, how is it...?"

A smile came to her face as she took his hand to lay it over her belly. "A woman's body changes a great deal during this time of her life. Being a midwife, I've seen women go from laughing to spitting fire at whoever was speaking with them."

More than a little out of his depth, he chose to simply nod rather than delve too deeply into this subject. Perhaps, there was a book about the ins and outs of pregnancy he could get his hands on. Surely, he wasn't the first man with questions about this.

"You're not going to do that now, are you?" he asked jokingly, though with a smidge of worry.

Angry Katrina was never someone he wanted to encounter. He knew better.

A laugh that filled every corner of the kitchen and managed to warm his heart came from her as she stared up at him. "I'm not sure. I don't think these things are exactly planned."

After a moment of delighting in her returned bright countenance, he cleared his throat and gestured to the stove as he moved toward the refrigerator. "Yes, well, if you don't mind, I'd like to perform my proper husbandly duty by feeding my wife now."

"Oh?" she asked as she watched him from her place. "And what are you feeding me this morning?"

"Bacon and eggs, of course," he answered as he pulled the appropriate products out and returned to her side.

"What-"

Before she could ask another question, he took her hand and led her to the table where he pulled out her seat and helped her into it. "As much as I love talking about the modern world with you, my love, the fact that you've not eaten in two centuries is beginning to greatly bother me."

A sweet smile danced on her lips as she said, "I'm really not all that hungry."

"Humor me," he begged as he set about the preparations. "Please?"

The sound of her sighing rather heavily from behind him brought his own smile out as he proceeded to take great care in preparing the meal before him. He wasn't accustomed to an audience when it came to his cooking. Usually, he was alone at this time of day, waiting for Abbie to pick him up. During these earlier hours, he tended to attempt learning how to accommodate himself. As a man needed to eat, he had taken to watching certain food channels and had learned a great deal of information when it came to the proper way to prepare a meal for himself. The only problem now was that he had the most precious creature in the world observing him and that knowledge had him quite nervous.

Not too long later, and after only one mishap with an egg breaking to pieces in the cup and filling it with shells, he was sliding a few spoonfuls of perfectly golden eggs onto a white plate already donning two slices of bacon.

"Here we are," he said, proud that he'd managed to forgo burning the meal.

"Is it finished?" she asked as he turned to set her plate on the table before her.

"Indeed it is," he declared with a sweep of his hand over the table. "All for you, my lady."

Green eyes shined up at him as she touched the chair beside hers. "Join me?"

Sighing as though she were requesting a great deal of him, he took the seat beside her before bestowing her with a large grin.

When she lifted the first spoonful of eggs to her lips, he waited with building anticipation for her reaction. In all their years as man and wife, he was ashamed to admit he'd never prepared a meal for his love. If there was one thing he intended to do with this blessed time they'd been given, it was to lavish her with all of the attention and love he could manage.

The widening of her eyes as she jerked them to him had his heart practically leaping from his chest.

"Ichabod, this is wonderful!" she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth.

Waves of relief flooded his system as he said, "I hope you're not attempting to spare my feelings."

She playfully cut her eyes at him as she asked, "When have I ever spared your feelings?"

Rolling his eyes, he slid a glass of milk toward her. "Something you might try to work on in the future."

She smiled at him. "I will. I don't think that's the best trait for a mother to have."

The mention of their baby managed to wipe the smile from his face before he could stop himself. It wasn't that it upset him so much as the worries returned again.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, drawing his gaze back to her.

The sight of her now frowning at him again brought with it a swell of anxiety in his chest and he considered he might not so easily slip from this moment as he had the earlier one.

"Of course not," he replied rather simply, hoping she'd accept his answer.

However, her frown never faltered. "Ichabod, are you... Do you wish I wasn't pregnant?"

Eyes widening at the direct question, he quickly shook his head. "Katrina-"

"It's just that you haven't said anything in regards to your feelings yet," she went on while twisting her fingers in her lap. "And I've noticed how you react whenever I mention our baby."

Lifting a hand to wipe over his face, he asked, "How do _you_ feel about it?"

When she didn't immediately respond, he managed to work up the courage to look at her. What he found was her staring at the plate of food in front of her as thought all of the light in the world had been drained from her.

"Katrina?"

"I'm scared," she softly said, never lifting her gaze. "Everything I've ever known is gone and ... we don't have a home."

Not wanting to interrupt her by speaking, he instead took her hand and held it in his.

"For so long, I resigned myself to the fact that I may never even have the opportunity to have this baby, but now..." Her gaze finally lifted to his; her eyes glistening with tears. "Ichabod, I want this baby so desperately."

"You do?"

"Don't you?" she asked as her eyes searchingly darted between his. "Ichabod, we made this baby together. Doesn't that fill you with such joy to know that what we did... My love, we created a _life_."

With a heavy sigh, he said, "Of course, I'm joyful. I wanted this, Katrina. I've wanted to have this with you since the moment you agreed to marry me."

"But not now?" she asked, her eyes sorrowful; as if he'd just stolen all the joy from her.

"My love, please understand," he begged as he went to his knees at her side while still holding her hands. "I will love our baby with all of my heart. I will do everything humanly possible to be the best father I can be."

"But you don't want to," she concluded as she turned her gaze from him. "If you had the choice, you would prefer it if I weren't with child."

"Katrina," he began, feeling his resolve slipping as the weight of the conversation began to suffocate him. "I'm a Witness to the Apocalypse. The world will end if I don't..."

Unable to stand her not looking at him, he maneuvered between her legs to be closer to her. "I don't have a means to provide for _you_ , much less a _child_."

Her eyes fell closed for a moment before she turned back to him; a heavy sigh slipping through her lips. Then, to his surprise, she took his face in her hands and leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips.

It was soft, chaste even, and entirely too short as she pulled back before he could even properly return it.

"That's your problem, my love," she whispered as she remained close to him. "You become stuck on the details and are unable to appreciate the simpler facts which are laid before you."

"Katrina, there's nothing simple about this situation," he reasoned, desperately wishing she would understand. "We're going to bring a life into the world with no means to care for it."

A smile creased her lips as she said, "Since when has caring for a life had anything to do with being able to provide for it?"

Eyes falling closed, he blew a heavy breath through his nose. "Caring for our child won't keep it fed or clothed. It won't allow it the means to attend school or-"

"Ichabod, stop over thinking this," she interrupted as she cupped his cheeks and leveled their gazes. "I want you to tell me what the image of a little boy with my eyes and your hair; my joy and your intelligence; my temper and your theatrics; makes you _feel_." She laid a hand to his chest. "Not in your head, but in your heart."

The way she was staring at him so earnestly, her green eyes alive with anticipation and more wisdom than he could ever manage, had him melting under her touch.

"It makes me feel like the happiest and most blessed man in all of the world."

A short laugh came from her as she finally relaxed and leaned her forehead to his. "That's all I wanted to hear."

Joining in her smile, he ran a hand through her hair and marveled over the woman he was holding. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Eyes fixed on hers, he said, "For making me pause and see the beauty in the world."

A brilliant smile lit her face as she leaned into him for another kiss.

Feeling more secure in his future than he had since their reunion, he imagined that maybe everything would indeed work itself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: First doctor's visit; More Ichabod worries; Katrina's reaction to modern Sleepy Hollow; Meeting Jenny Mills.


	4. Chapter 4

Squeaking shoes.

Whoever had thought such an invention was an up to par idea was someone he would love to personally give a long, drawn out, and very detailed lecture to. What was worse was the way the sounds of the shoes hitting the smooth floor seemed to echo entirely too loudly, something that earned each person who passed him a withering glare.

"Is it going to take much longer?" he asked, leaning over toward Abbie with a fair amount of evident frustration.

"Not sure," she said as she flipped through a magazine she had picked up not long after they'd sat down. "Doctor's visits generally take as long as they take."

"There must be some time limit, though," he prodded with a glance up to the clock which showed they'd been waiting for over half an hour. "There are people in need of assistance."

Abbie chuckled as she turned the page, never once lifting her gaze. "Most of the time, yes, but these particular doctors are dealing with new and soon to be mothers who are questioning every other word being said. It takes a while."

Deflating under her lack of a, in his opinion, _proper_ answer, he settled back in his chair and adjusted his arm around Katrina, who was resting her head against his shoulder.

Not long after they'd arrived at the doctor's office, she'd fallen right to sleep. Whether it was the baby, or a lack of sleep that had brought on her sudden drowsiness, he couldn't say, but he was grateful she was at the very least finally comfortable.

When Abbie had arrived at the cabin earlier in the morning with the suggestion that they visit a doctor to gain some idea of how far along Katrina was, he had been hesitant to agree. While he'd calmed slightly after his and Katrina's talk the day before, he was still heavily weighed down by his lack of funds.

He'd been in this century long enough to know that whatever this visit was going to cost was entirely too much for him to allow Abbie to make compensation for. It wasn't her responsibility and he'd told her as much.

However, she'd countered that it had to be done one way or the other and it would benefit Katrina and the baby a great deal, not to mention give them both some peace of mind regarding their baby's health.

That had been the final prod that had managed to get him to where he was now sitting.

To his surprise, he'd given into the idea far easier than Katrina, who he'd thought would have been overjoyed at the idea of learning more about their child. For reasons he was still yet to understand, she hadn't wanted to step foot outside the cabin, much less leave its grounds. Whether she hadn't felt well enough, or there was some entirely other reason eluded him, but whatever it had been had left him feeling more worried than not. Katrina had always been one to enjoy adventure, especially the kind that involved the outdoors as she was a keen lover of nature's beauty.

After they'd all finally come to the agreement that a doctor's visit could be beneficial, he'd settled himself into being semi excited about the journey from the cabin into town. For quite some time, he'd looked forward to sharing the new world with Katrina; the sights, sounds, and even smells. The world was open for them to discover and delight in just as they always had.

But that hadn't been what had happened.

When they'd made their way to the car, Katrina had all but insisted he sit in the back seat with her and then, during the entire ride, she'd clung to him as if he were a second skin.

Not even his dramatic commentary had brought a smile to her face, something that had left him feeling forlorn concerning. No matter how dry his sense of humor could be at times, Katrina had always given him the gift of her laughter, or at the very least a gentle smile.

Instead, she'd barely glanced out the window and when she did it was always with a timid expression, almost as if she was afraid the car would open up and allow everything to jump out and grab her at any moment.

At one point, a car alongside them idling at a red light had backfired and he'd thought Katrina was going to have a nervous breakdown over it. Tears had welled in her green eyes and her fingers had dug so deeply into his coat that he was sure she'd left fingerprints even through the thick material.

That was barely even to mention the explosion of Abbie's coffee in its cup holder at the exact moment Katrina had jumped. The hot liquid had shot straight up and splashed along the ceiling of the car as well as all over Abbie's passenger seat.

Thankfully, Abbie had avoided the mess, but that hadn't stopped her from yelling an expletive or two at the sudden explosion.

Katrina had been so distraught that he'd barely managed an apology to Abbie before he'd been forced to go straight into consoling his shaking wife.

At present, he'd still yet to receive an explanation from her regarding the incident, but it was on his to do list as soon as the two of them managed to find a moment alone.

By the time they'd actually reached the doctor's office, Katrina had been as tense and clammy as he'd ever seen her; something that left him feeling rather helpless over as, of the two of them, she'd always been the sure one; the one with the greater strength of spirit. In his mind, if either of the two of them were to be in a panicked and insecure state, he'd have thought it would be him.

He was almost positive the sterile doctor's office hadn't helped her state of mind at all. Everything was so bright and impersonal that he was sure Katrina felt as though the spotlight was on her.

"Is everything ok with her?" Abbie asked, her eyes on Katrina. "She hasn't said anything since we left the cabin."

Unsure how to properly answer his friend, he ran a hand through Katrina's hair, allowing the silky feel of it to glide between his fingers. "I've never seen her in such a state. It's as though she's afraid of her own shadow."

"Has she been that way since she came back?"

"No, not at all," he replied with a exasperated sigh. "If anything she's seemed stronger than ever. She spent a great deal of yesterday morning calming my fears. I can't imagine why she's suddenly so distraught with little to no provocation."

"It could just be the new environment," Abbie offered while returning to her magazine. "It's a big change from what's she's used to."

"Mrs. Katrina Crane?"

The nurse, a younger woman with dark hair, was leaning against the now open door which led to the back while glancing around the waiting room with searching eyes.

"Right here," Abbie called as she stood and nodded her head to Katrina. "You gonna wake her?"

With a weary sigh at the knowledge that he had to awaken her, he ran a hand along her arm and whispered against her hair.

"My love, it's our turn."

Her body shifted against his as she lifted her head, green eyes heavy with sleep.

Knowing he would have to take the lead if they were ever to actually move from their chairs, he stood, her hand in his grasp, and gently tugged her up.

The way she almost immediately bumped into him as she wrapped her fingers tightly around his left his heart constricting in his chest.

If only he knew what was troubling her so.

"Alright, Mrs. Crane," the nurse said with a bright smile as she opened another door. "If you'll just change into the gown on the bed, the doctor will be right with you."

At the sight of the thin material awaiting his wife, he cleared his throat and stopped just outside the door.

"I uhm... I'll wait here for you to change."

Katrina's eyes jerked up to his, a certain horror in her green eyes.

Yes, he knew she would be resistant to his being parted from her, but there was simply no way around it. She had to remove her clothing and he found himself unprepared to look upon her in such a state.

"It's only for a moment, my love," he whispered with a gentle squeeze to her hand. "Then, I'll be right in."

If anything, she clung to him more tightly. "Ichabod, I don't know..."

The nurse picked up the gown and held it up to Katrina, showing her the open side of it. "I know it looks complicated, but I promise it's easier than it seems. Just tie this at your back and it'll all come together."

With that, the nurse stepped around them and headed into the next room.

"She might need help tying it, Crane," Abbie said with a nod to the gown. "It'll be difficult for her to handle behind her back."

Panic began to take him over as he cast Abbie a pleading glance. However, her answer came in the hardening of her eyes as she slightly tilted her head toward Katrina.

Of course, he knew he needed to put aside his own discomfort to help his distraught wife, but that was easier said than done. No one seemed to care that this was just as new an experience for him as it was for her.

"Very well," he muttered as he pulled Katrina through the door and closed it while ignoring Abbie's satisfied expression as much as possible.

Now enclosed in the small room with Katrina, he took in the stirrups at the end of the bed as well as the many diagrams of various female body parts adorning the walls; the sight causing him to heat under the collar.

"Ichabod, I don't feel certain about any of this," Katrina whispered as she laid the gown on the bed. "I-"

Sucking in a deep breath, he covered the few feet between them and took her fidgety hands in his own. "I'm right here, my love, and I promise I won't leave you."

Green eyes darted around the room as her fingers tightened against his palms. "What if I have another accident?"

"Accident?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Do you mean something similar to what happened in the car?"

Her gaze dropped to her feet. "I didn't realize how little control I had of my powers. I feel like a small girl coming into her magic for the first time."

Slipping one of his hands from hers, he grasped her chin and tilted her head up toward his, making sure he had her gaze on him.

The fear swirling in her green eyes brought a pang to his heart. He needed to be strong for her.

"I'm right here," he assured with as much confidence as he could muster. "There's nothing to fear."

"What if something's wrong with the baby?"

Startled that she would ask such a thing, he swept a few strands of her hair from her face.

"What makes you ask such a question? Has something given you cause to feel this way?"

Her eyes fell closed as a shiver visibly shook her body. "It's been so long since I became with child. What if the extended pregnancy has somehow hurt our baby?"

Uncertainty plagued him as he leaned his forehead to hers.

Everything within him screamed for him to lavish her with assurances and words of comfort, but how could he do such a thing when he was even less sure of himself than she? How had they gone from him being the doubtful one to the one forced to give assurance?

"I wish I could give you the answers you long for, Katrina, but I promise that, whatever the outcome of this day, you will not endure it alone. I will be with you every moment."

"You guys done in there?"

Abbie's voice caused the both of them to jump at the intrusion to their private moment. In all honesty, he'd nearly forgotten where he was.

Once he regained himself, he cleared his throat and called out, "Uhm, another moment please!"

Katrina glanced at the gown, her lips caught between her teeth.

"I'll just..." He spun on his heel to face the opposite wall. "Inform me when you're ready."

She gave a soft murmur in response, leaving him to stare at a rather large poster of a toothless baby with bright, blue eyes.

A sudden rush of dry mouth took him over as he closed his eyes. Soon enough, he'd have such a child, one likely with the same blue eyes.

How in God's name was he supposed to deal with all of this?

"Can you help me?"

Her soft whisper was accompanied by a rustle of material, prompting him to open his eyes and turn to look at her.

She was standing with her back to him, the thin blue gown hanging to just below her knees, as she tightly held the strings behind her.

"Of-of course," he stuttered as he reached for the ties, heart now beating wildly in his chest at the sight of her smooth, pale skin.

While his fingers fumbled with the strings, he brushed her spine a few times, effectively causing his face to heat from the contact.

It was ridiculous really.

He and Katrina were no virgins. For God's sake, they were in this bloody place because they were expecting a child; a child conceived from the most intimate act known to man; an act he and his wife had partaken in far too many times for him to be this red.

"Is something wrong?"

The hesitation in her voice jerked his eyes up to find her half looking over her shoulder at him.

"Oh, no, I was just..." He swallowed against the dryness of his throat and stepped back. "I'm finished."

She turned and smiled at him; the first nearly genuine smile he'd witnessed from her all day. "Thank you."

A small nod was all he could manage as he glanced at the door. "Hopefully the doctor will come soon."

"Mhm," she mumbled as she reclaimed his hand and leaned against him, burrowing her head into his neck. "It's cold in here."

"Is-" He cleared his throat while dutifully wrapping his arms around her. "What's going to happen now?"

Her shoulders bobbed with a shrug, leaving him to flounder for another way to present his question.

"Well, I ask because you're a nurse," he explained. "And you're well aware of how much I hate to enter into anything unprepared."

"I'm sure I'll just be examined," she whispered into his shirt.

"Ex-examined?" he repeated in a cracked whisper. "What does that pertain exactly?"

The door suddenly opened, causing them both to glance over and find both Abbie and a fair haired woman in what looked to be her late thirties entering.

"You must be Mrs. Crane," the woman said with a bright smile, hand extended out to Katrina. "I'm Dr. Stevens and I'll be seeing to you and your baby today."

As Katrina accepted the doctor's hand, she whispered a soft 'hello' before once again tangling her hands around his.

"And are you the father?" she then asked, her brown eyes flickering over his clothing, which he'd become begrudgingly accustomed to.

"Ichabod Crane," he greeted while accepting her offered hand. "And, yes, I'm Katrina's husband."

The doctor nodded as she gestured over to Abbie. "Abbie, here, tells me the two of you are a couple of her informants and that's why you didn't feel out the needed paperwork."

When he glanced at Abbie, she gave him a tight smile, leaving him to turn back to the doctor with a firm nod. "Yes, Katrina and I are simply looking to ensure that our child is healthy."

"I don't normally do this kind of thing," Dr. Stevens said as she looked over her chart. "But, since it's Abbie, I'm gonna let this one slide without too many questions."

"We'd be most grateful with whatever assistance you can provide us, Doctor."

She nodded her head back and forth as she gestured to the bed. "Mrs. Crane, why don't you have a seat here and we'll get started?"

Katrina cast him a nervous glance while she did as instructed.

Once she was situated, he reclaimed her hand and stood at her side as Abbie leaned against the wall across from them.

"Alright, Mrs. Crane, is this your first pregnancy?"

"Yes," Katrina answered with a small smile up at him. "It is."

Unable to help himself, he returned her expression with a small grin of his own.

She was so happy about their child that he couldn't help but share in her joy; even if the both of them were on edge with worry.

"Any allergies or medical conditions, previous or otherwise, I should be aware of?"

"No," Katrina said softly, her attention back on the doctor. "Not that I can recall."

"How about your family? Any hereditary diseases?"

"No."

"Ok, do you consume any alcoholic or nicotine based substances on a regular basis?"

"No."

The doctor made a few marks on her clipboard.

"How about Std's?"

"I'm sorry?" Katrina asked with a frown. "I'm afraid I don't-"

"She's only been sexually active with her husband, right?" Abbie asked with a raised eyebrow, her expression pointed as she stared at Katrina.

Dr. Steven's cast Abbie an odd glance before turning back to Katrina in wait.

Eyes on a particular spot on the wall where the paint had chipped, he stood stone still as Katrina answered.

"I've only ever lain with Ichabod."

Despite the discomfort of the questioning he was being made witness to, he felt a swell of pride in his chest at her answer.

Of course, he knew Katrina was faithful to him, but there was just something about hearing it spoken aloud that made it so much better.

"Mhm and when was your last menstrual cycle?"

All thoughts of pride vanished, he, once again, became hot under the collar and shifted, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

"I'm not really sure," Katrina said, her voice full of uncertainty.

"Can you give me your best guess?"

"I-"

He felt her fingers tighten around his, prompting him to glance at her. Her face was pale and she was staring at her hands as though lost.

It struck him, then, that she didn't remember. Two centuries stuck in Purgatory was sure to have left her with more to contemplate over than that of her womanly functions.

Quickly searching his mind for the last he recalled not being able to lay with her, a time period he absolutely loathed, he cleared his throat and brushed some of her hair behind her ear.

"The party," he offered with a small smile. "At your father's?"

She looked up at him, her forehead set with deep wrinkles.

"Remember, my love," he went on encouragingly. "We were readying for your father's party and..."

Clarity dawned in her eyes and she nodded. "Of course, it was three months before..."

She trailed off as a haunted look flashed over her face, obviously recalling his being struck on the battlefield.

"So, three months ago, then?"

When Katrina didn't respond, he gave the doctor a firm nod and said, "Yes, that's when."

With a strange look at Katrina that he wanted to defend against, the doctor moved to her next set of questions, the likes of which had him growing more and more uncomfortable with each one that ticked by. In all honesty, he tried to think of anything else while the questions carried on; ranging from Katrina's cycle to her diet.

"Alright, Mrs. Crane," Dr. Stevens said as she patted the bed. "If you'll just lie back, I have a few exams I need to perform."

"What sort of exams?" he asked, wary of anything that might cause Katrina discomfort.

"Pap smear, breast exam, blood tests," the doctor rattled off as she opened a few drawers and began pulling things out. "The works."

Abbie cleared her throat and gestured to the door. "I can stay if you want to wait outside, Crane."

Every fiber of his being told him to flee, but the moment his eyes fell to Katrina, who was staring up at him, her green eyes glassy, he paused.

"It's alright," she whispered, her voice low and cracked. "You don't have to stay."

There was little in her voice that convinced him she wanted him to leave.

Gently running his fingers through her hair, he placed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, "I made you a promise; one I fully intend to keep."

"You're going to be uncomfortable," she replied as her eyes fell to his coat; her fingers still clutching his despite her words.

"Indeed, I will," he agreed wholeheartedly. "But I'd endure anything for you."

A small chuckle escaped her as her fingers loosened ever so slightly around his.

The next ten minutes of his life cemented the idea that his eidetic memory was a curse. If he'd ever wanted to forget anything, it was those ten minutes.

When Katrina's fingers tightened around his for the hundredth time, he'd finally had enough.

"Must you hurt her so?"

The doctor cast him a half a glance as she continued whatever it was she was doing at the end of the bed between Katrina's parted thighs, which he thankfully couldn't see due to Katrina's gown.

He was as red as Katrina's hair, but that didn't mean he couldn't still protect her.

As the doctor was ignoring him, he turned to Abbie, who was kind enough to be looking through her phone in the corner rather than claiming witness to his wife's exam. He'd have to remember to fall on his knees in thanks to the generosity of his friend at a later time. How he and Katrina would ever have survived in this time without Abbie's knowledge and overall hospitality eluded him daily.

"Ichabod," Katrina breathed through clenched teeth. "I'm fine. It just stings a little is all."

Completely out of his depth, he pressed his head to the pillow beside hers and brought her chilly hand to his lips. "I'd do anything to take your pain."

Her eyes softened as she touched her forehead to his. "I know."

"Alright, all done," Dr. Steven's said as she stood and peeled off her gloves. "Now, do you have any questions for me?"

"Is our baby alright?" Katrina immediately asked as she pushed herself up in the bed.

Dr. Steven's pulled a large machine up. "We're gonna check on that right now, but do you have any other questions? Anything at all?"

Abbie stepped up beside him. "Aren't there some vitamins or something she needs?"

"Yes," the doctor replied as she clicked away on her machine. "The nurse will provide all of that on your way out."

Abbie smiled and glanced up at him with a bump to his shoulder. "Go on, I'm sure you have a thousand questions."

Actually, he didn't have any, which made him feel like a blundering idiot. He was failing his wife and child already while the latter of the two had yet to even arrive.

"Uhm, I-"

"I'm just gonna go ahead and answer the question all soon to be dad's ask," Dr. Stevens said with a chuckle as she pulled a new set of gloves on. "Yes, you and your wife can have sex."

So hot he was sure ice could be melted on his forehead, he coughed and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I- I wasn't-"

"And it won't hurt the baby," Dr. Steven's assured as she fiddled with her machine. "Pretty much anything can still be done position wise. Just try not to go too crazy with the rough stuff and you can freely carry on as you normally would."

He noticed Abbie staring at the opposite wall, her body shaking with soundless laughter.

When he finally managed to glance at his wife, he noticed a light pink splotching her cheeks, but she was otherwise unaffected by the doctor's words, granted she was deftly avoiding his eyes.

"Alright," the doctor said as she draped a sheet over Katrina's hips before tugging the gown up to expose her belly. "Let's see what we have here."

Once again, the sight of his wife's skin had him clammy. How could she still affect him so deeply? After all these years?

As the doctor went about squeezing a clear gel on Katrina's belly, his wife tensed with a small sigh.

"Sorry," Dr. Steven's said as she smeared it with some sort of device. "I know it's cold."

Finally able to regain his composure, he asked, "What's this for?"

"This right here," she replied as she pointed at a black and white screen that was now flickering.

"And that is?"

She smiled and move the instrument in her hand to the left ever so slightly. "See it now?"

See it he did.

"Is that-?"

"Our baby," Katrina finished as she gripped his hand even tighter. "How is that possible?"

Abbie chuckled while gesturing at the screen. "Can they hear it, too?"

Dumbstruck by the sight before him, his body jerked when a hard and loud noise sounded around the room.

"What is that?"

"It's your baby's heartbeat," Abbie said as she bumped his shoulder again. "Amazing, huh?"

"Incredible," he whispered, his eyes glued to the screen.

They were actually looking upon their child; their son or daughter. Was there anything truly more remarkable in all the world?

"Is it supposed to be that quick?" he asked.

Dr. Steven's smiled. "Yeah, that's pretty normal and, if I'm correct, it looks like you're about fourteen weeks."

Tearing his eyes from the screen, he looked down at Katrina who was still staring at their child with tears trailing down her face.

"Katrina?" he whispered as he knelt beside her. "Are you alright?"

Her green eyes came to his, glistening with tears. "We're having a baby."

The tone of her voice held surprise, prompting him to trace his fingers over her cheek. "You've known this for quite some time, my love."

"I know, but..." She shook her head and tangled their fingers together over her chest. "It's real now. Our baby's growing again."

Overcome with the desire to take her in his arms, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I'm so overjoyed."

"You promise?" she asked, her eyes searching his out.

"Nothing in this world could ever make me happier than to see our love come to life."

A bright, and somewhat relieved, smile came to her face as she leaned her forehead to his.

As tormented as this day had kept him, he wouldn't take a moment of it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Morning sickness. A modern step for Ichabod. Abraham. Mixed signals between lovers.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think. I love the reviewer who tracks me down to my other stories to tell me to update this one. I'm glad you're enjoying and I hope I continue to feed you what you want ;)


	5. Chapter 5

There was nothing quite like having the sinking sensation that something was wrong pulling you from sleep. During such times, it became a battle of wills between being responsible enough to awaken and being lazy enough to stay tucked into the warmth of your bed and continue dreaming of paradise.

His paradise included him and Katrina wrapped in each other's arms beneath the warmth and comfort of modern blankets. It was a luxury he knew would become a favorite of his for years to come.

However, there was one thing wrong with his remaining in paradise: Katrina wasn't there.

Bolting upright, he fought the drowsiness which still clung to him and wiped a hand over his eyes to help his blurred vision. The room was still dark for the most part, which made the light seeping through the cracked bathroom door all the more apparent.

The possibility of Katrina being inside was confirmed when he heard, what sounded to be, strangled noises coming from within.

Pushing himself from the bed, he took in the beginnings of sunlight streaming through the bedroom window as he apprehensively approached the door. Unsure if he should knock, or go right in, he heard her give another strangled sound, prompting him to forgo manners and push the door wide open.

What he found was his beloved sprawled out before the toilet with her head held over it as she retched.

"Katrina," he murmured as he rushed across the small room and knelt beside her. "What's wrong?"

She startled and quickly turned her head away; laying her face in the bend of her arm. "Ichabod, please, I don't want you to see me this way."

Resolutely ignoring her, he moved even closer and brushed her hair behind her ear; his face deep with concern. "After the experience of the day before yesterday, I imagine I could see you just about any way and survive it."

He was sure he'd still not returned to his normal color after all the doctor's probing questions he'd been forced to endure. Never in his life had he been so embarrassed.

"Ichabod, please..." she groaned, pressing her hand to her mouth.

"I'm not leaving you," he began before reeling back slightly as she returned to her hunched position and proceeded to empty more of her stomach.

The putrid smell was enough to have his own stomach rolling, but he did his best to abate any signs of that from showing. The last thing he wanted was her thinking he thought she smelled, or that he couldn't handle this. Enough insecurity had been prevalent in their house without vanity joining in as well.

By the time she was sitting back on her haunches, her retching had ceased and become something more akin to gagging than anything else. Her face was sweaty, her hair line damp, and she looked paler than normal.

Needing to do something with himself other than gawk at her, he pushed himself up and quickly acquired a cloth from the cabinet. After running it under some cold water, he returned to her side and gently turned her face toward him so he could place the cloth to her forehead where he continued to hold it.

"I'm sorry, I woke you," she whispered; her eyes downcast as she took a few unsteady breaths. "I tried to be quiet."

With a growing frown, he pulled the cloth away and tilted her chin up. "I wish you would have awoken me the minute you thought something was amiss."

"You need your rest," she replied as her green eyes filled with tears. "And I- you've already done so much for me."

So tired he could barely see straight, he scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her slender form while pulling her head to rest against his chest. "This is _our_ baby, Katrina; not just yours. We made it together, remember?"

Her fingers clutched at his back and it was but a moment before he felt her tears' appearance on his skin, signaling he needed to awaken himself further if he was going to properly be of aid to her. He'd learned over the past few days to simply allow his wife to have her say and counter her thoughts rather than flat out interrupt.

"But it's inside me and there was nothing for you to do."

"There's plenty for me to do right here," he whispered as he rubbed her back in small circles. "Am I not doing something now?"

A choked sob escaped her as she trembled in his embrace. "You're everything."

Well, that was a relief. He felt like such a bumbling idiot most of the time. At least, his love thought he was worth something.

Stroking his fingers through her hair, he placed a kiss to the top of her head and asked, "Are you still ill?"

She eased herself away from him and gave him a half smile. "I think its passed for now."

More than a little relieved she wasn't going to empty any more of her stomach, he returned her smile and stood before reaching for her hands.

"The sun's just rising," he informed as he tugged her to her feet. "Why don't we acquire you a glass of water and proceed to watch the world awaken?"

After having forgone water for a glass of orange juice, he made his way out onto the porch where Katrina was waiting on the swing.

For a moment, he paused in the doorway to admire the way the sun rising in the distance over the lake seemed to bring her hair to life. Each strand danced in the light as the rays all but sought her out if only to magnify her beauty. They soaked into her red hair, giving her a glow he could only describe as magnificent.

However, when she gave a slight shiver, he came to himself and returned indoors to snatch a small afghan from the sofa before venturing, once more, out the door.

"Here you are," he said as he held out the glass.

Green eyes flickered up to him. "What is it?"

With a small smile of reassurance, he handed the glass to her. "Orange juice. I read in one of the books we acquired that it can be quite beneficial to you and the baby."

She appeared doubtful, but accepted his offering none the less; her eyes studying the liquid with rapt attention.

"I've never much enjoyed the fruit whole, I can't imagine I'll enjoy it this way."

Sighing rather heavily, he sat beside her and spread the blanket he'd acquired over her.

"At least, try it," he prodded. "Perhaps, you're preferences have changed since the last time you tasted an orange."

Tentatively, she lifted the glass to her lips and allowed the barest amount of the liquid to flow into her mouth.

"Well?" he asked, feeling as though he had some sort of stake in whether she enjoyed the drink or not.

Her eyes flickered to the glass as she smacked her lips. "I suppose there are worse things one could partake of."

Unable to help his chuckle, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned to the morning sky.

"You're still temperamental, I see."

"I am most certainly not," she exclaimed with wide eyes upturned toward him. "You're the one who's temperamental, dear husband."

"Me?" he asked as though she'd just accused him of some atrocious crime. "I haven't the slightest idea as to what you could mean."

With a shake of her head, she pulled the afghan tighter around her body. "I'm sure you don't."

The lake was alive with color as the pinks and yellows of the morning sky danced along its surface.

"It's beautiful here," he whispered as he admired the scene.

Her hair tickled his face as she burrowed her head into his neck and murmured her agreement.

"I think we'll be happy here," he offered, hoping to draw her into more agreement.

He worried about her happiness with the place they occupied. One of his greatest fears was being unable to bring her happiness. If she found this place unsatisfiable, he wasn't sure what he would do.

In their own time, he'd had the means to provide her with a large house which held all the luxuries most women would be content with. Katrina had turned their house into a home, making every inch of it theirs. She'd not been overly materialistic in her character, or in the decorating of their home, but she'd made it cozy; a place they could both find peace in while together.

However, no such agreement was coming from her at present. She was quiet and still; barely even breathing as far as he could tell.

Heart pounding in his chest, he tilted his head to the side in the hopes of catching some part of her expression and mood.

"Katrina?"

Green eyes were transfixed on the glass in her hand; a sorrowful expression on her face.

"I'm sure we will."

Her whisper was so low, he was forced to strain to hear it, but that didn't stop him from catching the crack in her voice.

Gently grasping her chin in his fingers, he tilted her face up, hoping to garner a better read on her mood.

"Do you think we'll be happy here?"

A smile came to her lips; one he was positive she was forcing, but with the expertise of a woman who'd been doing so for all her life.

"Of course."

The sense of doubt he'd been carrying on his shoulders weighed even heavier on him. "You know I'll do everything possible to make you happy."

Her expression softened as she lifted a hand to caress his cheek. "My love, you don't have to _make_ me happy. That's something that comes so naturally while I'm with you that hardly anything else compares."

With the feeling like his heart was lodged in his throat, he whispered, "You don't seem happy."

Her eyes fell as she began fidgeting with the afghan; a tell tale sign that she was uncertain.

The urge to help her overcame him as he slid his fingers into her hair. "I'll do anything to help you."

A small smile, this one more genuine than the last, came to her face. "I'd be really happy if you held me again."

Unable to help his smile, he sighed and wrapped his arms around her before pulling her against his side once more.

With her head burrowed into his neck, he returned his eyes to the lake and the sun's rising; hoping this day offered more than doubt and fear.

* * *

She was so peaceful now; much more so than she'd been during the earlier hours of the morning.

The two of them had watched the sun rise for quite some time before she'd requested he return to bed with her so she might acquire some more rest.

More than happy to do so as he'd been pulled from sleep long before he was ready due to her illness, he'd accompanied her back into their room and snuggled under the blankets with her to ward off the coolness lingering in the air.

However, while it had taken Katrina no time at all to return to slumber, he'd been unable to join her. Too many thoughts plagued him; new ones now added to the old.

Her mood and lack of enthusiasm when it came to his speculation over if they'd be happy here in this time had left him forlorn.

It's not as though he expected her to be overjoyed. Too many losses had occurred due to their new life. Customs, an entire way of life, and the people they'd called their own were now long gone and forgotten by time; for him, withered away in the blink of an eye.

Katrina, on the other hand, had endured centuries of knowing that, one by one, her friends and family were dying away as she remained unchanging; unmoving. How many times must she have asked herself if Purgatory was to be her home for eternity? If she would ever see him again? Ever give birth to the babe lingering in her womb?

Did she consider it all lost now? That her life, save for him and their baby, was over? He surely felt that way at times; like his only purpose in life was to be a Witness.

However, that left the question of what would happen to him once this was all over. When the world was safe at last, what would become of him? Would he wither away into the background even further than he now was?

Gently running his fingers through her hair, he absorbed the feel of her pressed so fully against him.

He loved it when they laid this way. With her arm around his waist and her face resting against his chest, it gave him the opportunity to gaze upon her while holding her close. He truly felt as though he were protecting her; keeping all evil or hurt from her.

He wondered if his beautiful bride truly knew how blessed he felt to be with her this way; how blessed he'd felt since the moment she'd agreed to be his on that bright and sunny day so long ago.

It had been a spring morning. He recalled the way the rising sun had glinted in her hair as he'd sought her out on the front porch of her father's house; his heart pounding in his chest and his body covered in a slight sheen of sweat.

There hadn't been a moment in his life where he'd been more nervous; more fearful of rejection. Even with the knowledge of her love still ringing in his ears, he'd been afraid; afraid she'd find herself aware that he had nothing to offer her other than the life of a soldier's wife and the heart of a man who'd worship her like no man had ever worshipped his beloved before.

With his pledge of love, she'd not smiled brightly or lost herself to the whims of girlishness over a proposal, but, instead, she'd taken his hand and sworn the same; a gentle smile on her face and a loving gaze only for him.

In his heart of hearts, he'd known Katrina van Tassel would forever be the owner of his love.

However, the question of how deeply that love still ran plagued him. Was it still as strong; still as resolute as before? Or was it an obligation borne of centuries of waiting and little other choice?

A knot formed in his throat at the idea of his beloved being torn between duty and freedom. What if that was why she couldn't answer him before? Was that why she couldn't agree to happiness here? Perhaps, it wasn't the time, but him that she doubted? They'd been apart for so long. Feelings could have faded to memory.

Pressing his mouth to her forehead, he absorbed her scent and prayed he'd always be allowed such a luxury.

Unfortunately, his phone drew his gaze to the bedside table when it began buzzing along the wooden surface.

Torn between answering the call and remaining still for his wife's sake, he glanced down at her still wrapped around his chest. It was a risk he nearly didn't take.

Gently sliding his arm from under hers, he carefully leaned toward the table and felt for the device; his fingers just managing to touch the edges of the still vibrating object.

Clenching his jaw, he glanced down at Katrina again, taking in her still form, and shifted ever so slightly away from her, permitting him to stretch the remaining distance to capture the device in his grasp.

Relieved to finally have it, he brought it to his ear with a hushed, "Hello?"

_"Hey, you awake?"_

Raising an eyebrow at the ridiculousness of such a question, he muttered, "No, I'm conversing with you while still deep in slumber."

He could practically feel her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

 _"Well, someone's in a mood,"_ she said, her voice mocking. _"Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but I actually have something important for us to do."_

Regretful over his greeting, he whispered, "I wasn't asleep, but Katrina still is and I didn't wish to wake her. She had a trying morning with the baby."

It was odd, speaking of Katrina while she lay against him. It felt even odder to be speaking about something he knew she might feel embarrassed of. He simply couldn't help it. When he began speaking with Abbie, his thoughts seemed to seep right out of his mouth.

 _"Right,"_ Abbie said rather quickly. _"Look, I know the two of you have a thing going on right now where you don't want to be separated for more than a minute at a time, but we have a problem."_

Suddenly more alert, he asked, "What's the matter?"

 _"It's the Horseman,"_ she explained. _"He killed two people last night."_

Body tensing, he asked, "To what end?"

_"I haven't been to the scene yet to attempt figuring out why."_

His breathing had quickened under the knowledge that he and Abbie were speaking of Abraham while Katrina remained in the dark.

With a glance down at his wife, who was still peacefully resting within his embrace, he considered what this new information meant.

The conversation involving Abraham being the Horseman of Death was one he'd meant to have with her, but had somehow managed to convince himself wasn't a necessity at this time. Too many other things had been happening during the few short days he'd been reunited with his beloved and talk of her former fiancé and his former best friend being the Horseman who'd attempted to murder him two centuries ago wasn't high on his list of priorities. He'd been too busy concerning himself with helping her adjust to the modern world while he, himself, adjusted to impending fatherhood.

_"Crane? Are you listening?"_

A bit ashamed of himself for having become so distracted, he cleared his throat and said, "Forgive me, Leftenant, I was simply considering the Horseman."

_"I was asking if you wanted to accompany me to the scene."_

"Yes," he responded immediately before he thought better of himself and focused back on Katrina. "Oh, I... perhaps not."

He well recalled their venturing out of the cabin to the doctor's office two days ago and how much convincing it had taken to acquire her agreement to leave. She'd been attached to his hip like a small child clinging to a parent. Every sharp movement caused her to jump and, most nights, she awoke in a cold sweat, afraid she was still trapped in Purgatory.

All of that was topped by his reluctance to leave her after having witnessed her so ill, prompting him to whisper, "I can't leave her alone."

For a few moments, all he heard was the sounds of Abbie's jeep as she drove, presumably toward the cabin to retrieve him. However, he could still perfectly picture her pursing her lips over his lack of agreement.

_"I understand this is a sensitive time for her, but this is important, Crane."_

Eyes falling closed, he felt himself begin to tear in two. "She's afraid of her own shadow. I can't leave her alone for an extended period of time."

 _"Well, you said she's asleep, right?"_ Abbie asked, her voice searching. _"If we're fast, we may make it back before she wakes up."_

"That's being a bit hopeful, Leftenant," he whispered as he stared at his wife's still form.

_"Then, wake her up and explain it to her. Either way, I need you with me on this."_

"She struggled all morning," he replied, his voice wavering. "I can't wake her after she's finally gaining some peace."

 _"Crane, we have to get this done,"_ she urged. _"You might see something no one else will. We'll give it a once over and return to the cabin to discuss it."_

Still doubtful, he listened as Abbie added, _"We're the Witnesses. Sometimes we have to make the tough choices."_

Releasing a heavy sigh, he nodded as if she could actually see him. "You're right, of course."

 _"Good,"_ she briskly replied. _"I'll be there in five."_

The click of the phone signaled the end to their conversation, leaving him to contemplate what to do next.

Eyes falling to Katrina again, he lightly ran a hand over her arm, testing how close to waking she might be if he moved. When she gave no reaction, he took a deep breath and eased her arm slightly away from him and began scooting his lower body toward the edge of the bed. Once clear of her arm, he rested it along the sheet between them before gently sliding his shoulder from under head.

Everything seemed to make so much more noise than usual as he adjusted the pillow to support her in the place where he'd once been.

Upon standing from the bed, he stared down at her and told himself that she would be fine as she looked so peaceful.

However, the nagging sensation that when she awoke and began to look for him with no result left him riddled with worry.

He couldn't just leave her without any word.

Quickly dashing to the kitchen, he pulled out a notebook and set to penning her a short note; one that told of his need to depart from her presence for a short while as well as instructions to not worry as he would return to her as swiftly as possible.

He, then, acquired a book from the mantle and returned to the bedroom where he placed it and his note on the pillow beside her just as the sound of Abbie's jeep rolling over the gravel alerted him to her arrival.

With a last look at his love, he prayed for her mindset when she awoke and exited the room to prepare a few essentials for her.

"Glad you didn't change your mind," Abbie said as he dropped into the seat next to hers. "You didn't sound so sure on the phone."

"I'm still waging war with uncertainty," he replied as he stared at the cabin. "She and I haven't been parted since our reunion."

"It had to happen at some point," Abbie said as she backed out of the driveway.

"Yes, but this isn't the way," he answered, his heart hammering in his chest. "She'll be terrified when she awakens."

"Or she'll adjust," Abbie offered, her eyes on the road. "You never know how you'll react until you're in the situation. The same goes for Katrina."

Lifting a hand to his eyes, he said, "Forgive me, Leftenant, I simply worry for her. She's having such a difficult time."

"She'll be okay, Crane. She's survived a lot. A little time alone won't do much to her."

With a sigh, he stared at his hands. "I pray so."

"But, in the mean time, you and I have some pretty big fish to fry."

The mention of their latest problem didn't help his frayed nerves in the least. "What is our plan of action?"

"I don't really know what happened, but from what I've heard, the Horseman cut down two guards at one of our labs."

"Why there?" he asked, curiosity finally seeping out of him.

"It's where Irving had previously been keeping the skull. I'm guessing the Horseman intended to start their in his search."

Nodding along with her assessment, he barely noticed her glance of concern.

"What's wrong?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he said, "I've yet to tell Katrina of the Horseman's identity."

Abbie remained silent, giving him the feeling she was mulling his offering over. It didn't really matter. He already knew what she was going to say.

"Why?"

"Because she's with child and stressed enough as it is," he answered a bit snippily.

"And?" she prodded, her eyebrow cocked.

"Because she's my wife and I'd be informing her of what occurred when she spurned her ex fiancé's hand in favor of mine; the very same fiancé who was once my best friend."

"I swear, Crane," Abbie groaned. "Your life's like a soap opera."

Unsure what she meant, but still hyper aware of the fact that she was mocking him, he said, "As if your life is any less complicated."

"My issues with my sister are hardly anything to compare to your love life," Abbie said as she kept her gaze forward. "Besides, Jenny and I are doing a lot better these days. You and Katrina, however, what's going on there?"

Hot burning began in his chest as he allowed her words to sink into him. Truthfully, she was correct, but it pained him ever so terribly to admit it.

"I fear leaving my child fatherless," he admitted as he returned to staring at his hands. "If something were to happen to me while on a mission-"

"You can't think like that, Crane," Abbie cut in while shaking her head. "Everyone in the world dies at some point. It could happen at any time to anyone."

"But-"

"You and I could have a car wreck in the next five minutes or so," she went on without blinking an eye at his interruption. "Stop borrowing worry. You're gonna give yourself an ulcer."

Was it too much to ask to be allowed to wallow in self pity for a moment?

After a moment, Abbie asked, "So, what about you and Katrina? Are you guys talking more?"

"She's been ill," he answered, avoiding her gaze.

He heard Abbie's heavy sigh, but chose to ignore it.

"And you're using that as an excuse to delay the inevitable conversations you two need to have," Abbie concluded.

"It's only been a handful of days, Leftenant," he defended.

"I know and maybe I'm trying to force my own tendencies to not procrastinate onto the king of procrastination, but..." She stopped at a fork in the road and turned to look at him. "These things, the baby, the money, Abraham, and whatever else you're avoiding talking to her about... They fester."

All the energy he had left seeped out of him as he stared down at his hands. "It's too much to discuss at once."

"Don't discuss it all at once if you don't feel like it's appropriate," she reasoned. "Take it one issue at a time and work through it."

"And which issue should I begin with?" he asked with a wave of his hand. "That I have no means to support her and our child? That I have ill timed thoughts about my child being some sort of abnormal monster? That I have no clue as to what she, as a witch, is or what she's capable of? That I fear she's only pretending to still love me because she has nowhere else to go? Or, best yet, do I tell her that her former betrothed still wishes to claim her as his own and force her to spend eternity as Death's bride?"

At the end of his rant, his chest was pulsing with that hot burning that made it seem as though he'd implode at any moment. Had he truly allowed so much to fall into the chasm resting between he and his wife? It just continued to build and pile on.

Eyes falling closed for a moment, he held his breath and glanced at Abbie, who was sitting with her chin propped on her knuckles while staring at him.

"You done?"

Deflating under her lack of sympathy, he rolled his eyes and straightened in his seat.

"You're absolutely no help at all," he griped with a wave of his hand.

"Crane-"

"I pour my heart out only to be treated as though..."

"Crane-"

"...I'm some dimwitted, chronic worrier who can't speak with his own wife."

"Crane!"

Half turning to glare at her, he came up short at the smile tugging at her lips.

"You find amusement in my sorrows now?" he asked incredulously.

She shook her head and patted his arm before placing her car in gear. "I don't know much about Katrina other than what I'm sure are the overinflated tales you've told of her greatness, but for her to have gone to hell and kept her mouth shut for two centuries all in the name of preserving your dramatic rear end, she much be in love."

Crossing his arms with a huff, he turned to gaze out the window, not caring for her poking fun at his life.

"Crane, I honestly adore you, but you've got to stop with the pity parties. It's not healthy."

Still avoiding her, he said, "I haven't entertained any such events."

"Really?" she asked with a chuckle. "Because from what I can see, it seems like she's reacquainted you with that stick up your-"

"Leftenant!" he exclaimed, finally turning to her self-satisfied expression.

She rolled her eyes and made a turn before saying, "Look, you're here, helping me on our mission, and that's all that really matters to me. My only concern is that you're distracted and that's something that _can_ actually get you killed and leave your child fatherless."

Stuck by her change in demeanor and tone, he swallowed the knot building in his throat and whispered, "I'm trying to be a good husband."

"That's great, Crane. More guys should be that way, but," she went on with a side glance at him. "At what expense are you willing to revolve around her?"

Adjusting in his seat, he stared out the window. "You said it yourself, Leftenant, I'm here with you."

"Are you?" she asked in an unsure tone. "Because it kinda seems to me like you're still back there with her. You've not talked about anything else since you got in the car."

Yes, that was true, but his worries were not something trivial, or unwarranted. However, he supposed he was being inconsiderate of his partner's well being.

"Did you wish to discuss anything? Your sister? Detective Morales?"

"My sister's working part time at the antique store in town and Morales transferred to Philadelphia. The rest of my life revolves around my two jobs. That's me in a nut shell. You, on the other hand, are-"

"When did Detective Morales transfer?" he asked, his curiosity peaked.

Abbie shrugged her shoulders and stared straight ahead. "Two weeks ago."

Flabbergasted, he asked, "Did he bid you farewell? Offer any sort of explanation?"

"He didn't own me anything, Crane," she said softly. "We weren't together."

"But you shared a past, intimate relationship; one I know for certain he wished to rekindle," he went on, his brow furrowed in concern. "For him to leave with a lack of proper farewell to you is an unquestionably, foul reflection on his character."

"This isn't 1777, Crane," Abbie answered with a roll of her eyes. "Not that you would understand a break up. You've been with Katrina for over two hundred years."

"Technically," he said, holding up a finger. "Katrina and I have been married for six years, but that's beside the point and very presumptuous on your part. I do, indeed, know of the departure between a man and woman as I've encountered my fair share of the fairer sex and, each and every time, I've been the proper gentleman toward them."

A heavy sigh slipped through Abbie's nose as she leaned her elbow against her window and propped her head in her hand.

"You're full of yourself, Crane."

With a huff, he asked, "And why have you not told me of this sooner?"

"When exactly, during your Katrina clouded past two weeks, was I supposed to tell you?"

Suddenly unsure of his position, he asked, "Do you dislike my wife?"

Abbie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know your wife, Crane, and that's something else you need to add to your list of issues to discuss with her because I really think she has some form of PTSD or something."

"She's not insane," he defended, uncomfortable by this turn in conversation.

"Of course not," Abbie agreed. "But she's been through hell and is about to spend the next handful of months enduring a pregnancy. She has to talk stuff like that out because what happened the other day on the way to the doctor's office wasn't only dangerous because of her out of control magic, but also because it was a real eye opener of just how deeply wounded she is."

"What do you suggest I do?" he asked tiredly. "I don't know how to talk to her of such things when I'm not even sure I _want_ to know what she endured."

Blue lights reflected off the front window as they rounded a bend in the road, signaling they were upon their destination.

"Start with Abraham," she said with a wave of her hand at the scene before them. "She's going to find out about that eventually as things like that have a way of coming out when you least want them to. When you're sitting there with her later and wanting to avoid talking about it, just remember how it feels to learn the truth from someone other than the person you love."

Abbie, then, stepped out of her vehicle and began walking toward the building.

Instead of immediately following, he watched her speak with her fellow officers.

She was a self assured woman; one of morals and strength. How he'd come to know her was still a mystery to him, but he was grateful nonetheless. However, that didn't stop the irritation he felt at her seeming to know more about him and Katrina than he, himself. That intuitiveness, he supposed, was why she was such a valued officer in her field. She saw things that others didn't.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped from the vehicle and made to follow her; intent upon not failing her as a partner this day.

* * *

'It'll all work itself out. You'll see.'

Those had been Abbie's last words to him when she'd dropped him off five minutes ago. Since then, he'd stood in the driveway, fearing the moment he stepped through the cabin's door.

The day had dragged on much longer than he had anticipated as the moon was now high in the sky. The cabin was lit from within; the soft glow of firelight shining through the front windows. That told him nothing as he'd lit it before departing earlier in the morning.

However, for it to still be burning so brightly, she would had to have attended it at some point in the more recent hours. That must mean she was inside and of the state of mind to care for herself and her comfort.

Dragging a shaky hand through his hair, he took the first step required of him and forced himself forward.

It was pointless to delay it. At least, that was how he imagined Abbie would say it. She'd tell him to go ahead and bite the bullet as a delay would only make matters worse.

The door handle was cold in his palm as he turned the knob and allowed the warmth from within to greet him as he pushed the door open.

The ever increasing view permitted nothing amiss. Everything was exactly as he'd left it; not that he was sure if he expected it to be different. What had he imagined? That Katrina would burn the house to the ground? That she'd pitch a fit of such magnitude as to tear the house apart?

Such thoughts were ridiculous, he told himself as he stepped inside, his eyes searching.

The faint scent of smoke met his nose, but as his eyes moved about he took in the many lit candles and burning hearth.

"Katrina?" he called rather hoarsely as he removed his jacket and set it on the back of a nearby chair.

That was when he saw her; curled into a ball on the floor in front of the hearth.

For a long moment, he simply stared at her. She looked innocent and, he sorrowfully thought, normal.

What was wrong with him that he kept returning to the fact that she now seemed so different to him? Her power wasn't something visible. It wasn't an immediate threat to him. So why did he suddenly find himself so wary of her?

Pushing his doubts aside, he made his way toward her; careful to not tread to loudly.

Upon reaching her, he bent to his knee and caressed his fingers through her soft hair.

"Katrina," he whispered, brushing a few strands from her face.

Ever so slowly, her eyes blinked; the green he so loved becoming visible.

Then, so abruptly he was forced to steady himself, her hand was around his throat as she jolted up; her eyes dilated with fear and panic.

Unsure what to say, he remained perfectly still but for his hand covering hers. He wasn't even sure she noticed as she seemed to be some other place entirely. It was like she wasn't even aware that he was there.

"It's alright, my love," he whispered as he lifted his other hand to touch her face. "It's only me."

The shadows abated to be replaced by a furrowed brow as her breathing began to labor; her eyes finally focusing on his. "Ichabod?"

Easing her hand from his neck, he dipped his head forward to press a kiss to her knuckles. "Everything's alright."

He should have known better than to awaken her in such a fashion what with how often she seemed to have nightmares; Purgatory always clinging to her even as she awoke in the real world. It was almost like threads still held her to that awful place, always taunting her with the connection.

"You-" She shook her head as she tightened her fingers around his. "I thought something had happened to you. Your letter said you wouldn't be long."

A heavy weight sagged in his chest as he beseeched her forgiveness. "I had hoped I wouldn't be, but my outing led to more research than I had anticipated."

The frown creasing her forehead was still present as she spoke. "I tried- I tried to come find you, but I couldn't make my feet leave the house."

She looked down at her hands. "And I tried to feel you through my connection to the elements, but I..."

She hesitantly glanced over toward the kitchen and he followed her gaze to find a charred kitchen table and, upon further study, a pitch black ceiling.

Surprised by the sight, his gaze flew back to her as he ran his hands over her arms. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Her eyes, now full of remorse, avoided his. "I'm so sorry. Do you think Miss Mills is going to be angry? I can try to repair the damage once I regain better control of my magic."

Casting her worries aside, he cupped her face and urgently asked again, "Katrina, are you hurt?"

Finally, her gaze met his and he breathed a sigh of relief when she shook her head.

"No."

Thumbs caressing her cheeks, a pain deep in his chest throbbed as he said, "I never should have left you. I knew better than to do such a careless thing."

"I was alright at first," she assured as she touched the book on the floor beside her. "But as the day continued on, my thoughts began to wander and I-" She shook her head as her eyes began to glisten. "I became so overcome with worry and fear that I just had to find you."

"Katrina..."

"I tried to seek you out, but the spell failed and I couldn't make myself leave the cabin and I just-"

Body still coiled with worry, he watched as a small smile came to her face as she brought the book next to her to rest against her chest.

"Where did you find it?"

Eyes falling to the worn copy of Gulliver's Travels, he answered, "Fredrick's Manor. The Leftenant and I were investigating a missing person and discovered you'd stayed there."

"Yes," she said as she stared at the book. "I sought sanctuary there just before I attempted to flee to England."

Sorrow swarmed her features. "It wasn't until after I'd departed that I realized I'd left it behind."

The look on her face didn't sit well with him so he moved closer to her and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. "Well, you're reunited with it at last."

Her expression softened as she began to finger the piece of paper sticking out from the edges. "I read your letter at least a dozen times."

The pain in her voice was too much.

"We're together," he whispered as he slid an arm around her waist. "And expecting no less."

A small smile warmed her features as she rested a hand to her belly. "A beautiful gift after so much torment."

An unexpected peacefulness shone from her as she stroked the place their child rested.

She was right. Their child was a beautiful gift, even if he did still have his concerns. More than anything, he was grateful that the thought of their child brought his wife such happiness.

When the flames of the hearth started becoming too warm for his back, he asked, "Why are you on the floor? Were you cold?"

Her green eyes flickered behind them as she said, "I can't seem to rid myself of the chill. Purgatory was always so cold. I think it might have seeped into my bones somehow."

Not wanting to discuss Purgatory at this particular time, he crawled forward and snatched the afghan from the sofa.

After reclaiming his place next to her, he draped the material around her shoulders and pulled her into his arms.

"You're always so thoughtful," she whispered as she rested her head between his shoulder and neck. "Your note and the breakfast you left for me helped calm me for most of the morning."

Adjusting himself so he could run his fingers over her arms, he replied, "Not nearly thoughtful enough."

Her finger tangled in the front of his shirt. "You cut yourself too short, my love. I couldn't have chosen a better husband for myself."

The idea of another man being husband to Katrina was enough to make his chest tighten with jealousy. That, of course, led to thoughts of Abraham and what a life of watching her be wed to him would have been like. It was an old self infliction he'd once used to entertain his thoughts in the wake of Abraham's supposed death. Now, though, the jealousy was from an entirely different source.

"Do you ever think of Abraham?" he asked in a low whisper.

Her body tensed before she sat up, still encased in his arms, and looked at him; her brow creased as questions swirled in her green eyes.

"Why would you ask me that? Since his death, you've always been so averse to speaking of him."

His eyes fell to her belly as a stray thought of her carrying Abraham's child flitted though his mind. It was enough to cause him to clench his eyes shut from the pain he knew that would have brought him.

"My love?" she softly called as he felt her fingers rest against his cheek. "What's troubling you?"

Swallowing the knot in his throat, he said, "Answer my question."

Her hand stilled before leaving his face altogether.

"Look at me."

Knowing that refusing her would do no good, he cracked his eyes open and sought her out.

Her olive orbs were swirling with confusion and worry.

"Yes," she finally admitted. "I've thought of him."

Not having expected her to voice such truth, he attempted to untangle from her, but she had none of it, as she all but straddled his lap.

"Ichabod, you've asked me a question and now want to leave before I've barely even begun my answer. What is the matter with you?"

"My wife thinking of another man has turned my stomach," he replied too harshly.

"I'm not thinking of him," she returned softly. "I said I've thought of him. You'd be wise to acknowledge the difference and realize that I've likely thought of a great many things in my two and a half centuries; gone through every choice and decision I've ever made."

"To what end?" he asked as his fears began bubbling forth. "To regret me?"

 _"Regret you?"_ she asked, her voice reaching a higher pitch as her brow furrowed even deeper. "I've never once regretted you; not ever."

"If you'd have chosen him, you'd have lived out your life; borne him children; been at peace. You'd have never wanted for anything."

"Anything but love," she added as she searched his eyes. "Yes, I would have had everything a woman could have asked for, except I didn't want those things. Baubles, trinkets, and spoiled children I'd have been permitted no word in raising would never have brought me the sort of joy you have given me."

"Katrina," he began, feeling shameful.

"Is that what you've been thinking?" she asked. "That I regret you? Have I done something to cause you to think such things?"

"Of course not," he whispered as he sought out her waist to pull her closer.

"I'm trying so hard to be better, to regain control of myself," she said as her tears finally slid down her cheeks. "I know I'm not being a proper wife to you. I'm not caring for your needs, but if you just permit me some time, I swear, I'll find myself again."

Cupping her cheeks, he closed the space between them and covered her mouth with his own.

She gave a slight gasp as he caressed her lips, taking them between his and lathering them with his attention. She so deserved his attention.

Her hands rested on his chest and began sliding up his shirt as he delved deeper into her mouth; sliding his lips back and forth over hers.

"Forgive me," he whispered against her lips. "I'm a fool."

Her slender fingers sought out his neck where she began stroking his skin.

"I don't understand," she replied softly.

Eyes falling closed, he slid a hand into her hair and prayed for the strength to be honest with her.

"It's Abraham, Katrina," he finally admitted as he caught her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked as she slightly pulled back. "What's Abraham?"

"The Horseman of Death," he answered, sorrow caked into every part of his voice. "It's Abraham."

The confusion in her eyes lessened only enough to make room for realization.

"No," she said, her eyes wide. "He-"

"Made a deal with Moloch that day on the path," he went on. "He exchanged his soul for yours."

"For mine?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."

"Moloch was preserving you for Abraham all these years," he explained; his contempt for the very notion of a thing evident. "That's his reward. When he completes his mission, he expects to finally claim you as his own."

Her gaze fell from his as the links seemed to fall into place for her.

"That's why Moloch kept me so apart," she whispered as her eyes focused on the flames of the hearth. "He never permitted me to interact with anyone. When I contacted you through the mirror, he was so incensed. I truly thought he would destroy me for my interference with his plans."

"He hurt you?" he asked, hoping to help her somehow.

Perhaps, Abbie was right. Katrina needed to speak of her torments.

"Dreams," she whispered as her eyes fell closed. "He always gave me dreams; tricks of the mind. Sometimes, I was with you again; free of that place. Then, just as I was about to give in, he would yank the world from under my feet and I'd be left alone again."

Hands seeking out hers, he threaded their fingers together.

"Other times, I'd be with my family, or our baby." She shook her head as the tears continued to fall down her cheeks. "He never left me be. That's why I can't find my focus here. I always think I'm in another of his dreams; that I'm not really here with you."

"Katrina..."

"And those were just the times he taunted me with things I wanted," she went on. "It was the nightmares that were truly awful. Being unable to save you on the battlefield. Being forced into marriage with Abraham. Miscarrying our baby. You hating me for my heritage."

She trembled under his hands. "Two centuries of you hating me; calling me an abomination."

Cupping her cheeks, he whispered with as much certainty as he could. "I'm going to destroy him, Katrina. I swear it."

Green eyes finally sought him out again. "I know."

"You needn't fear anything," he urged as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I'll always protect you."

"Even from myself?" she asked, her voice small and childlike. "I have no control. I'm constantly afraid; overwhelmed; out of place. I haven't the slightest idea as to what my life here will entail other than being your wife and a mother to our child."

Festering worries, indeed. He'd never doubt, or dispute Abbie again.

"One day at a time," he whispered as he stroked her hair. "We'll take our troubles and worries one day at a time and figure them out as we go. We'll find both of our places in this world, Katrina, and we'll do it together."

A small smile touched her lips as she said, "Promise me you no longer doubt my love."

Eyes downcast, he shook his head. "I promise."

"I chose you because you're a good man, my love. You feel so much all the time. How could I have not fallen in love with you?"

Her lips then found his and he welcomed her affection; the way she caressed him with both her hands and mouth.

There was a change in her kiss, however, that he felt almost immediately. She wanted more. She was intent to have more of him than kisses and light caresses. He could feel it in the way she moved against him and the way her fingers dug into his shoulders as she settled in his lap.

The feel of her thighs clenching his waist was too obvious as the small dress she wore left her lower half bare against his trousers; her center pressed firmly into his lap. It was enough to draw a low groan from him as he regretfully parted their mouths; hating himself the moment he did so.

Heavy breathing hung between them as she searched his face for an answer.

Truthfully, he had none. He only knew he wasn't ready for where she was trying to lead him.

"It's rather late," he whispered through panted breath. "We should gain some rest."

Green eyes flickered across his face, which he dropped his own eyes to avoid.

He couldn't handle the disappointment he was sure was written in her every feature. He'd never denied Katrina before and he wasn't entirely sure why he was choosing now to start doing so.

However, her soft sigh as she stood from his lap was enough to draw his gaze upward.

"I'll go change, then," she whispered before turning and retreating to their room.

Eyes falling closed, he wiped a hand over his face and released a heavy breath as he wished all the doubts and fears would part from them both.

By the time he had joined her in the room, she'd already climbed into bed and had the blankets pulled up to her shoulders.

The sight caused regret for the hurt she was surely feeling to constrict his chest.

Parting with his coverings but for his underclothing, he crawled into his side of the bed; the soft sheets welcoming him like a cherished lover.

Uncertainty then began to plague him as he stared at her red hair which was spread out over the white pillows and sheets as the urge to hold her filled him.

Rather than allowing doubt to once again control him, he closed the distance between them and slipped an arm around her waist; the thin material of his shirt doing nothing to hide the feel of her figure under his hand. She was so soft; so delicate under his palm. He could truly spend an eternity like this with her.

Burying his face in her hair, he whispered, "I love you."

The tense muscles of her body unwound against him as she laid her hand over his. "I love you, too."

With those words ringing in his ears, he closed his eyes and chased the rest he'd earlier spoken of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: More talks between the Witnesses. A possibly soon to be employed Ichabod. Figuring out Katrina.


	6. Chapter 6

The rich smell of pine wafted in the air as he brought the axe down in a swift and meaningful strike. Small chips of wood soared around him and the newly splintered halves of the log fell to the ground with a thud.

Wiping the back of his sleeve across his sweat beaded forehead, he bent over and acquired another piece of wood as a hot ache settled in his lower back that nearly rivaled the burn along his upper arms.

Since first light, he'd been scurrying about the yard, finding various projects to tinker with and occupy his time. The grass had needed cutting, the trash taking out, and the limbs trimmed back from the house. Currently, he was chopping firewood from a fallen tree which had blocked the path to the dock; a job he'd told himself just couldn't wait.

After bringing the axe down yet again, he kicked the new halves aside and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned against a nearby tree while his gaze flickered up to the cabin.

To be completely honest, he was avoiding his wife.

It turned his stomach to acknowledge his loathsome actions, but there was little changing that fact.

Since the night he'd spoken to her of Abraham, a distance had settled between them; one much greater than when she'd been trapped in Purgatory. He still wasn't sure if it was entirely one reason or another that was perpetuating the ever growing chasm between them, but he was positive his ceasing of their kiss that night had a great deal to do with it.

Pecks to the cheek upon his exiting the cabin were about as intimate as they'd been over the past two weeks and while they still held each other at night and he still rose to help her when she was ill, or suffering a nightmare, they touched each other very little.

What made it even more difficult was the fact that Abbie had left the day after their talk for a mandatory two week training camp in Virginia. So, that placed him forcibly trapped in the cabin with only his wife for company; something that should have delighted him, but instead made him nearly as ill as Katrina's morning sickness.

One positive result of the last week was Katrina's growing willingness to depart from the cabin, at least for short walks. In the early mornings and late evenings, she would meander around the gardens, touching this flower or that one while reacquainting herself with nature's beauty.

While she did so, he'd watch her from afar, always needing her in his sights as assurance that she was content; that nothing plagued or disturbed her. Every so often, he would see her appear to decline into deep concentration, which usually led to some form of magic she was attempting to perform coming about soon afterward.

Flowers had both grown into beautiful blooms and exploded into shredded pieces during her many outings.

He recalled the first time he'd seen her blow a flower to bits and how it had nearly scared him to death. He'd rushed to her side, begging her to inform him if she was hurt or in need of aid. However, she'd promptly waved him off, saying it was hardly anything to fret over, but, since then, he'd been sure to watch her like a hawk while being ever mindful to keep a distance so as not to smother her with his over protectiveness.

What had piqued his interest the most, though, was her random encounters with wild creatures. She'd be simply standing still and out would pop a rabbit around her feet, scurrying about as though discovering a long lost friend. Then, of course, there'd been the deer which had walked right up to eat something out of her hand. Birds lighted around her; unafraid and lively with song.

It was both the oddest and most interesting thing he was sure he'd ever seen. She talked to them like they were regular people capable of communication with her. Try as he may, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea of it.

Tires connecting with gravel drew his gaze to an approaching vehicle, one that set his heart to racing when he caught sight of it.

Abbie had returned.

With renewed energy, he propped his axe against the tree and hastily made his way up the small hill to greet her.

"Hard at work, I see."

The grin she wore was a welcome sight.

"A man must earn his keep," he said with a wave of his hand, doing his best not to pant from his exertion.

"You bet," she agreed with a half hearted, stern nod. "I'm not feeding you and cutting your grass."

Joking as her comment may have been, it still managed to leave him with a sour taste in his mouth. Here he was, still unemployed and being fed like a begging animal. It seemed he was unequivocally useless to the most important people in his life.

"So, uh, how've you been making it on your own?" She glanced up at the cabin. "The two of you don't seem to have burned the house down while trying to figure out how the microwave shuts itself off."

Rolling his eyes, he dusted some chips of wood from his shirt as he was suddenly more self conscious of himself than normal.

"I assure you, Leftenant, that Katrina and I are both highly capable individuals. We're more than adept on the subject of how to care for ourselves."

Abbie placed an elbow on the hood of her jeep and her narrowed eyes on him. "You seem more snippy than usual. Everything alright?"

Avoiding her gaze with a deftness he'd learned quite well in recent weeks, he looked out over the lake. "Now, Leftenant, it would be entirely rude of me to go into conversation about myself when you've yet to give detail to your weeks away."

"Uh, well," she shrugged her shoulders. "Jenny and I ate a lot of takeout while watching a lot of cheap cable. The training was the usual as I'd expected, nothing too strenuous, and the sights were beautiful. However, other than that, it wasn't much to talk about."

"I'd hardly consider so much time spent in your sister's company to have a lack of talk," he mused with a shift of his eyes to her. "I imagine you enjoyed your time with her."

"Actually, Jenny and I get along really well." She smiled, a hint of genuine shine in her eyes. "It was kinda refreshing to be away from all the stress of the Apocalypse. We got to spend a lot of quality time together without crazy interruptions; something that's been rare throughout our lives. We were just a couple of sisters with nothing but time on our hands."

Heart warming with her words, he clasped his hands behind his back and turned to face her. It was a true testament to her graciousness that such an event had taken place between the sisters. He'd worried in the beginning that it would be all fights and harsh words between the two for the duration of their battle against evil and, to be honest, he hadn't been sure how he would deal with such a situation. Women were much different than men when it came to expressing their troubles.

"I'm pleased to hear it, Leftenant."

Abbie tilted her head to the side as their eyes finally met; her gaze serious once more.

"It it just me, or do the dark circles under your eyes mean I've gotten more rest than you lately?"

He should have known she'd turn the conversation back to him at some point. Ever avoidant of discussing her own personal thoughts, he'd found Grace Abigail Mills to be very adept at reading others' expressions. He imagined that was why she was so coveted by the higher authorities of the government who wished to whisk her away from the small town of Sleepy Hollow.

"It's nothing to worry over. Katrina's nightmares and illness have simply prevented a great deal of rest." He shook his head, praying she would accept his answer. "But it's hardly a reason to complain with all that she's giving me in return."

"And?"

He stared at her through narrowed eyes. "And what? There's little else to be said."

"Mhm," she muttered as she glanced up at the house again; her eyebrow quirked in that way that could lead him to no good. "Did you and her have your talk? Or have you been avoiding it all this time?"

Uncertain if he should be offended or not, he huffed and returned to staring at the lake; taking comfort in its beauty as a plausible means of distraction from looking at his inquisitive partner. "She's aware of Abraham, yes, and she had very little to say on the matter."

"And what about the aversion to leaving the cabin?" Abbie pressed. "You know she's got another doctor's appointment coming up soon."

Shifting his feet as a means to attempt quelling his discomfort, he answered, "We spoke of it briefly."

Abbie paused a bit, giving him the impression that she'd given up. It would be a rare win for him as she tended to be like a dog with a bone. There was just no stopping her perceptiveness and force of will to gain answers. He was truly glad they were on the same side as he'd hate to know he might one day end up as a true person of interest during her interrogations.

However, the heavy sigh she soon released quickly put an end to his hopes.

"Crane, please don't make me drag it out of you. Just spit it out."

Fingers itching to grasp something, he swallowed the anxiety in his throat.

"We've drifted apart."

"Wow," Abbie drawled out. "Three weeks. That was fast for the honeymoon phase to fade."

Scowling as a means to deflect the sting of the truth in her words, he straightened his shoulders and tersely replied, "It's nothing for a lack of love or want of connection. It's just that I feel certain anxiety when it comes to... acts Katrina wants of me and in return for my unwillingness in regards to such acts she's become very withdrawn from me; keeping her thoughts locked tight."

The crunching of rocks beneath Abbie's boots were the first signal he received that she was moving and it was enough to draw his gaze back to see her now standing with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

"You mean she wants sex and you aren't delivering."

What felt like hot liquid began spreading down his neck as he flailed about for a moment, appalled at the easy manner in which she spoke of such things.

"Must you be so blunt?"

Abbie fixed him with a pointed expression. "Crane, I have other things to do and places to be today, I can't spend half of it beating around the bush with you."

The pressure which had built in his chest burned all the brighter. Could he truly speak of such things with his partner? It was inappropriate on so many levels. Then again, who else was he going to speak with? He couldn't exactly seek out Abraham, his former best friend, to discuss his intimacy issues with his wife who also happened to be Abraham's former fiancé.

"Very well, then," he replied rather uncomfortably. "I'm simply afraid that it won't be the same because of the baby and all that's happened. It just fills like there are still too many things left unsaid to even consider attempting to make that intimate connection. Katrina and I have always been so... _close_ in this moments. It was always so much more than just a physical connection. It was..."

He ran a hand down his face as the weight of his troubles began to suffocate him.

"I'm guessing you haven't shared that with her?" Abbie asked before continuing without waiting for his response. "Because if that's true, if you shut her down without explanation, I hope you realize what that did to her psyche. She's already so insecure about her place in the world and now she probably senses your hesitancy and thinks your reluctance is something involving her. Talk about a jerk move."

He moved to speak in his defense, but she held up a finger.

"I'm not finished. She has went _two_ centuries without certainty or security, Crane. She needs to feel that you're there for her as her lover, not just her dutiful husband." She waved her hand toward the cabin. "Also, you know, maybe consider that her pregnancy might be affecting her moods as well. Let me tell you, emptying your guts every morning probably doesn't leave you feeling like the sexiest attraction for your husband."

Thoroughly feeling like the worst person alive, he suddenly found his feet to be the most interesting of sights and helplessly whispered, "Is that all?"

"Look, I'm sorry," she sighed. "It's just that, as a woman, I can tell you that we over think everything. Nothing you do escapes our notice, no matter how hard you try to hide it. All this stuff you're keeping from her because you think you're protecting her feelings, I can promise you, she senses it. Something else I can tell you is that she's laying in bed at night going over what it is about herself that's the problem."

Feeling more out of his depth than ever before, he said, "Women are the most complex puzzles man could ever endeavor to attempt understanding."

Abbie chuckled. "Well, good luck with that and, just as a note, a little love and affection will go a long way in curing the bedtime woes."

Not finding her offer amusing in the least, he kicked at the rocks beneath his feet. If it were at all possible, he would sink to the ground and beg it to swallow him. All the demons in the world didn't make him as anxious as the beautiful red head who held so much power in his life.

"Now, I do actually have some uplifting news for you that will perhaps bring the color of your cheeks down a shade or two."

Spirits perking up just a bit, he glanced up at her. "More uplifting than my being a jerk?"

Clearly amused over his discomfort, she smiled. "I think I have you a job."

"A job?" He stared at her incredulously. "You've procured me a form of employment?"

"I have. You free to go check it out?"

His reply was immediate and lacking nothing in the way of eagerness.

"Alright, well, go tell the wife and we'll hit the road."

For the first time in weeks, he was actually eager to enter his home.

"Miss Mills," Katrina said with a smile as she stood from the sofa with a bright smile. "It's wonderful to see you've returned."

Abbie glanced at him with a raised eyebrow to which he shrugged. Katrina's joy seemed out of place when considering she and Abbie had yet to truly have a real conversation.

"Uh, yeah." Abbie gave a tight lipped smile as she slipped her hands into her back pockets. "Jenny and I got in last night."

"I trust your journey was well travelled?"

"Mhm."

Katrina circled around the sofa to stand closer, her green eyes never once meeting his. That fact sucked some of his renewed energy away quicker than he would have liked.

"I'm afraid I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Mills," Katrina said, her face bearing sorrow as she twisted her fingers together in front of her.

For her part, Abbie leaned forward slightly, her eyes squinted. "My forgiveness?"

Katrina gave a helpless sigh. "I assure you that I'm not usually so rude and thoughtless, but I'm afraid my own selfish sorrows have caused me to fail to make your acquaintance in a better manner."

As surprised as he was by Katrina's admittance, Abbie's face showed the true shock.

"It's really not a problem. It's been a strange few weeks."

"Hardly a reason for my lack of kindness," Katrina protested. "You're my husband's dearest friend and I've yet to properly even introduce myself."

"Uhm, ok," Abbie answered with a half hearted chuckle. "I, uh, I guess that makes sense."

Katrina smiled, clearly pleased.

"I hope you and I can find a time to speak at more length." Katrina cast him an amused look. "That is, if we can rid ourselves of our male distraction for a short while."

Playing into her joke, he gave a crooked grin. Katrina had always been a more than adept hostess when it came to conversing and caring for his friends and fellow soldiers. He knew this, however, was something that was altogether different. Abbie wasn't some new soldier under his command, or anyone who might just be an acquaintance and comrade. She was a permanent fixture in their lives.

"I can't imagine what you'll speak of that will require my absence."

Lips pursed, Abbie gave a rather uncomfortable nod. "Uh, yeah, we'll definitely have to do that soon."

Well, that was more than enough chit chat for one day.

"The Leftenant has something she'd like me to see in town." He stepped closer to his wife so they could speak more softly between themselves. "Will you be alright being alone for a short time?"

Her gaze fell to her hands, which had taken to twisting together again, as she gave a small nod. "Of course."

Hardly believing her, he gently took her by the arm and led her further away. "Convince me better, Katrina."

Ever so slowly, she lifted her eyes to his; the green in them filled with hesitancy.

"I admit, I'm afraid, but that's a part of this process I have to face. If I'm never fully alone, never without you here to hold my hand and tell me everything's alright, I'll never get past this panic I always feel." She gave a small smile; one that was somehow both nervous and strong. "Just don't stay gone all day this time."

Whether he felt awkward and uncomfortable or not was irrelevant. He had to do something for her; something to ease her nerves and give her assurance. Hesitantly leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, taking his time to linger and inhale the lavender scent of her hair.

"I'll be back in time to make dinner for you," he whispered against her skin.

A soft laugh slipped from her. "I shall be delighted to see what that will entail." 

* * *

"What is this place?" He scrutinized the small building as he met Abbie on the sidewalk. "A bookstore?"

Abbie smiled as he grabbed the door and held it open for her.

"You bet. I used to come here all the time before I got too busy with..." She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head side to side. "Things."

The small store was cozy, not too big or too bright, and held a warm enough atmosphere. There was a scent of cinnamon and worn leather in the air that set him at ease almost immediately.

"Anyway, Mrs. O'Conner is getting up there in age and is looking to slow down a little for her health and also to spend more time with her son and grandkids." Abbie tapped a small bell. "She needs someone to help her out with the business."

Unsure if she was implying what he thought she was, he glanced around the store, which suddenly seemed much larger and less inviting than before.

"You mean to say, you think I should help her?" He shook his head. "Leftenant, I'm not so sure I'm up to such a task."

Abbie chuckled and waved him off. "Take a deep breath, Crane, and just meet her, alright?"

"Oh, Abigail!" Mrs. O'Conner, he assumed, came walking from around a row of bookshelves, a spring in her step. "I'm so glad you were able to come."

To his surprise, Abbie met the woman half way and leaned into her for a gentle hug.

Intrigued by the exchange, he gazed after them inquisitively. It was rare to see Abbie willingly offer such means of affection. He wondered just how often she'd once come to this place, seeking refuge amongst the many books. The two women were smiling and talking like they'd known each other for ages.

Mrs. O'Conner, for her part, was a rather short, plump woman. Her hair had grayed to the point that it was more white than the natural black which was still lingering in certain places. Brown eyes outlined with deep lines gave way to years of knowledge, likely from reading the very books he was surrounded by now.

"So, is this the mysterious Mr. Ichabod Crane I've heard so much about?"

Clearing his throat, he gave a small bow and came up smiling. "I hope nothing too mysterious."

"Oh, no," Mrs. O'Conner said with a soft laugh. "That sweet Jennifer Mills has told me you're quite the history buff."

"Miss Jenny?" he asked, surprised to hear such a familiar name.

"Jenny works across the street," Abbie said, gesturing toward the door.

With a glance through the glass window, he spotted the antique store wedged between _Della's Bakery_ and _Subway_.

"Oh, well," he cleared his throat again in the hopes of quelling his anxiety. "I do enjoy history."

"So, Abigail tells me you might be a good fit here at _Hollow Books_."

Shifting his feet, he cast Abbie an uncomfortable look. "I believe she has overestimated my abilities, madam."

"I believe that will be for me to decide," Mrs. O'Conner replied with a raised eyebrow. "Anyone can learn with a proper teacher and you look ripe to do a bit of learning, Mr. Crane."

At a loss for words, he was surprised when the woman looped her arm through his and began leading him further into the store.

"I'll take him from here, Abigail," she called over her shoulder. "I'm sure you'd like to browse your old haunt over in the mystery section."

Shooting a glance over his shoulder, he sought out Abbie only to see her grinning ear to ear right before she ducked down a side aisle.

"So, tell me, young man," Mrs. O'Conner said, her voice bearing a sense of curiosity. "Are you married?"

* * *

 

The warmth of his home was a welcome feeling.

As he removed his coat at the door, he breathed a sigh of relief as his feet and back were aching and in desperate need of a hot soak. If he kept up the work load he'd been taking onto himself, he'd surely be useless during the next demon attack.

The front of the house was dark, save for a small light in the living room to guide his steps. After turning it off, he made his way to their bedroom, which only permitted him the knowledge that Katrina was in the bathroom.

A bit of hesitancy was present in his movements as he imagined she might be put out with him for being so late, but he truly hoped that not to be the case. Mrs. O'Conner had kept him late into the evening, wanting to know everything about everything. He swore the elderly woman had more energy than he did. He truly believed she was the most curious woman he'd ever met and that was saying something considering most high society women of his time had had little else to do but pry into others' business.

"You're late, my love."

Gaze searching her out, he found her coming from their bathroom, a towel dabbing at her wet hair.

However, her hair hardly garnered his notice as her gown, a thin, cream material, was practically see through with the light of the bathroom shining behind her. The sight of her form's outline displayed in such a way had him heating under the collar.

"I-" He tore his eyes from her to focus on the removal of his socks. "Forgive me. I was detained by a curious woman full of prying questions."

"A woman?"

Struck by the slight inflection in her tone, he lifted his eyes to her as a grin began to pull at his lips. She was now turned from him, her towel gone and replaced with a brush, but he deciphered by her stance that she was unquestionably tense.

"Yes," he answered, unable to pass on this opportunity. "A lovely, intelligent, and quite humorous woman."

"Oh?" She set her brush down and ran her hand over her gown where their child resided.

"Mhm." He rose from the bed and took the few steps that would position him behind her, allowing him to slide his hands around her waist to rest over hers while pressing his front against her back. "She was also a widow twice my age."

Her head turned to the side, her lips twitching. "Truly?"

He leaned close to smell the fresh scent of her skin, his nose brushing her neck. "You smell wonderful."

Their hands over her belly pulled close as she sucked in a breath.

Overcome by her scent and the warm feel of her, he pressed a kiss to her skin, which only led to another and another. For so long now, he'd longed for the taste of her. Resistance had been a hard won fight that he now seemed to be losing.

Her fingers threaded through his as she turned her head and nudged his cheek with her nose.

Conceding to her wishes, he trailed his lips up her neck, taking his time with her supple flesh, memorizing every inch of her all over again. By the time he was caressing her lips, they were bound so tightly that every breath could be felt without question.

As his heart hammered against her back, her fingers began tracing over his hands and up his arms, leaving his to rest against her belly with a gentle firmness.

However, the thin material kept nothing of the contraction of her muscles from his notice. She was so soft and warm; two things that had his trousers constricting in their own familiar way.

"Katrina," he whispered, pulling away and resting his forehead to hers. "How I love you so."

"I hadn't noticed," she softly replied, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him pant for breath.

Though her words were joking, he still felt a pain from them.

"I know I've been... distant of late." He lifted a hand to her cheek and pulled her around to face him. "But I do love you more than any creature could love another."

"Ichabod." Her hands rested on his sides as her green eyes bore into him. "I could never doubt your love. It shines so clearly in your eyes every time you look at me."

His gaze fell to her chest, an action that did nothing to help the pulsing in his trousers. Her damned nightgown showed the outline of her breasts and nipples with little to nothing left for the imagination. What on earth had Abbie given his wife to wear?

"I hope I haven't caused you any conflict in your thoughts." He caressed the column of her neck. "It's so hard not to..."

Her fingers hooked under his jaw to lift his gaze.

When he met her eyes again, he found her to be frowning, the creases in her brow drawn tight.

"Why should it be hard at all?" She shook her head. "If you desire me, why not act on it in the way we have so many times before?"

"Because," he mumbled as he shut his eyes and pulled away from her, the absence of her body already bothering him.

She was so accepting, so yearning for his love. What sort of man was he that he couldn't just worship the beautiful creature God had blessed him with who was practically begging for his attention?

He paced across the room and sat on the edge of the bed before dropping his head into his hands.

How could he complicate this situation any further? He knew he had to be honest with her, but the idea of hurting her had him nearly about to bite his tongue off.

"My love." Her hand rested at his back and took to rubbing his tense muscles. "Whatever it is, just tell me."

"I can't," he whispered, feeling the burn in his eyes. "It'll pain you."

Her hand stilled and he swore his heart jumped into his throat.

Choking on the sob building within him, he felt her silence begin to strangle him as he pressed his hands deeper into his face.

"It's the baby, isn't it?"

The bed shifted as she stood and it was enough to prompt him to drop his hands and grab hers, desperate to keep her near. More distance was the last thing they needed.

"I love our baby." He pulled her to stand in front of him, though her eyes refused to meet his as she stared at the window behind him; her chest rising at a quick pace. "Katrina, I want our baby."

When she didn't respond, either verbally or physically, he spread his legs and pulled her close enough to rest his forehead to her belly as his arms wound around her waist.

"I've always wanted a child with you," he whispered. "Since the moment it became a possibility, I've anticipated it; you telling me of the beautiful miracle we'd created."

At last, her hands rested along his head, holding him close as her fingers wove through his hair.

"You're not telling all of it. I can feel it."

Heart hammering, he opened and closed his mouth with nothing being offered to her. Once it was said, there would be no taking it back. She would always remember it; be hurt by it. He couldn't imagine her ever forgiving him for this. If there were ever a creature in this world who might contend with him for Katrina's love, it was surely the one growing mere centimeters from his face. What would happen if she couldn't forgive him for his thoughts about their baby?

"I picture a..." Her tightened his hold on her so she couldn't escape him even if she tried. "I don't want to imagine it or think it, but, every time I close my eyes, I see our child as... different; abnormal."

She became so completely still that he knew without a doubt she'd heard him. Then, a heartbeat later, she began frantically pushing at him which only made him hold her closer.

"You see me that way," she breathed, barely above a whisper.

He jerked his gaze up as he stood and grasped her face, which was overflowing with tears. "No, _never_."

She shoved at his chest, effectively pushing him away as she stumbled back a few feet. Heartbreak was written in her every feature and the sight of it had panic building in his belly. How could he have done this to her?

"Our child is a part of me, Ichabod, and if you see it as an abnormality, then that means you see me that way, too."

Unable to move toward her due to the look on her face that unquestionably told him not to, he dropped back to the bed; weak and ashamed.

"I swear, I don't," he replied, desperately shaking his head. "I don't understand it, Katrina. I don't want to feel this way. I love you and our baby. I would die for you _both_."

She wrapped her arms around herself, making her seem all the younger; more fragile. Insecurity was such an odd sight on his wife. She'd never been one to show fear or doubt. If there was ever a question of who was the stronger of the two of them, it would surely always be her. She was a resilient and outstanding woman who had no rivals.

"Are you afraid of me?"

The soft whisper was filled with so much fear that it had him back on his feet before his heart met its next beat.

"No." He edged toward her slowly. "Of course, not. I think I simply don't understand is all."

When he hesitantly touched her shoulder, she briskly withdrew a few more steps as her eyes snapped opened.

"Don't." She shook her head as more tears came. "You don't have the right. This is why you haven't touched me, isn't it? Why you won't make love to me? Because you think I'm some... abomination."

The knot in his throat seemed as though it had become a permanent fixture. "Please, don't say that. That's not what I think at all."

"You're lying!" A spiteful glare flew from her as she pointed a finger at him. "You call me the liar when all this time you've been having these thoughts about me."

"I haven't damn it!" The pressure to course correct this conversation weighed down on him. "I haven't made love to you because I wanted it to be pure. I didn't want any doubts or secrets left between us. You deserve better than that and I sure as hell wasn't going to selfishly use you with all of this left unsaid."

She grimaced and spun away from him.

Taking a deep breath, he paused and attempted to calm himself. If he started screaming at her, they would never reconcile and things would only worsen. Besides all of that, he was most certainly the one who needed screaming at in this moment.

"When we make love, I want it to matter, Katrina." He stared at her back, wishing she hadn't turned from him. "I want it to be like it was. I didn't want it to be different because of the baby."

"Because of your thoughts about _my_ baby." She turned around, her green eyes flashing hotly. "About the parts of it that _I_ created."

"I wouldn't have our child any other way than how it is," he replied, his voice soft in comparison to her harsher one. "You must believe that I want it just as it is; the parts that are both you and I."

The furrow of her brow was instantaneous. "You're not making any sense."

It was now or never. He had to get all of it out and fix the growing chasm between them. "I'm a fool, my love. You know how my mind works; how strange it is sometimes. I have an incessant need to understand everything around me."

"What don't you understand?"

"You." He took another hesitant step toward her and thanked God when she didn't turn away. "I don't understand your magic, or how powerful you are. I don't understand what makes you a witch and where the differences between you and I begin and end. I don't know what's going to happen when you give birth, or if it's going to require safety measures because of our child's heritage."

He ran a hand down his face as his frustrations rose. "I don't understand _anything_ and my mind is betraying me by attempting to fill in the gaps."

When her hands grasped his and pulled them from his face, he nearly flinched from surprise. She was voluntarily touching him despite his wicked thoughts.

"All you have to do is ask."

Her eyes, though puffy and red, were filled with love and mercy; two things he felt less than deserving of.

"I didn't want to hurt you." He cupped her face. "I would do anything to spare you pain and the fact that it's my own ignorance that's causing it now bothers me so deeply that you cannot fathom it."

A heavy breath eased from her nose.

"I suppose this is a conversation we should have already had."

Relieved that she had somewhat calmed, he smoothed his thumbs along her skin. "This was my fault. I shouldn't have kept my thoughts from you."

"I know I seem fragile, Ichabod, but I'm not." She pressed closer to him. "I'm strong. I just... I've lost my way a bit and it's taking some time to find myself."

"I know that, Katrina." He pressed his forehead to hers. "I swear, I do."

Her fingers twisted in his shirt as her eyes fell between them. The silence left him wondering what was happening behind those orbs of green he so adored. Was she going to forgive him? Could it be that easy? He found it hard to believe she would accept his answers and allow him back into her arms so freely.

"Katrina?"

"Yes?" she asked, her eyes never lifting.

He ran his hands down her shoulders as he dropped his mouth to press against her cheek.

"I want to hold you," he whispered, breathing against her skin. "Please, permit it."

For a few terrifying heartbeats, she didn't respond, didn't acknowledge him in the least. It left him feeling more empty than he had in a long while. There was no possible ending to this night that could ease his heart's aching other than the one where he held her in his arms as she fell asleep.

When she stepped back from him, her gaze still avoiding his, he assumed he was doomed.

She walked across the room and switched off the bathroom light, leaving him to stand in place, barely even breathing for fear that it would somehow offend her.

Then, she moved to the bedside and began pulling the covers down for her entry.

"Should I-" He swallowed against the knot. "Should I leave?"

Never looking at him, she answered softly, "I don't know."

Unsure how that answer affected him, he glanced to the door and considered he might just go ahead and permit her some time to think.

However, Abbie's words of how Katrina might lie in bed at night considering all that was wrong with her came to memory and he suddenly found himself moving toward her with resolute steps.

When he was just behind her, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back into his chest, making sure to be gentle with her, as he leaned to whisper in her ear.

"There's nothing wrong with you. You're the most beautiful, kind, and loving creature I've ever had the honor of meeting. Don't ever doubt that I see you any other way."

There was a tremble to her body now; an unmistakable tell tale that told him he was right to assure her.

"Ichabod, please," she whispered, a crack in her voice. "Don't ever leave me alone."

"I honestly don't believe I could if I wanted to, Katrina."

When she turned in his arms, he was greeted with fresh tears and a desperate need for acceptance in her green eyes.

Wasting no time in giving it to her, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers; the feel of wet tears coating his mouth and cheeks.

The way she responded to him tugged at his heart. It was hesitant, like perhaps she might be doubting he was even touching her. The knowledge made him feel like the most worthless husband alive. Here he was with the most beautiful wife a man could ask for and he'd been making her feel like less than she was.

"Will you ever make love to me again?" She pulled back, her puffy eyes searching him out. "I need you, my love."

He traced his fingers over her cheek. "Soon."

A weary breath left her, one that gave way to more doubt, as she nodded and turned to climb into their bed.

Refusing to doubt himself as much as she did, he shrugged off his shirt and trousers and crawled over her to rest in his place. Then, without leaving a moment to hesitate, he turned on his side and wrapped his arm around her.

"I need you, too, Katrina." He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "So desperately."

She rolled her head toward his. "Then, why not quench your need now? If you desire me the way you say, why not allow us the connection we want?"

There was so much longing in her green eyes that he very nearly threw all of his doubts aside. However, the word connection bounced around in his mind.

"Would we really share in the connection the way we once did?" He ran his fingers over her cheek. "I see the hurt still swirling in your eyes. I see the doubt of my love."

She turned to stare at the ceiling.

"Would you rather I were a regular woman?"

"Of course, n-"

"And don't say what you think I want to hear," she interrupted. "Tell me the truth."

If his heart beat any harder, it would surely burst though his chest.

"I'd rather I understand you, feel as though I knew everything about you."

"You'd rather I be a simple woman," she concluded, her voice even. "But if I were a simple woman, neither of us would be here. We'd likely have never met and, let's be truly honest, Ichabod, if I were simple you would have grown bored of me years ago."

Aggravated by this entire conversation, he sunk further into the sheets. "I know for certain that I've grown bored of this point of conversation."

With a huff, Katrina turned on her side to lie face to face with him. "You fell in love with me because I was mysterious."

Not having her dictating his thoughts, he ran his hand down her arm. "I fell in love with you because you were kind, caring, and more different than anyone I'd ever met. You stood against me and cast my words aside as though I were an insignificant insect."

"You were anything but insignificant to me," she whispered, her voice softer. "So we shouldn't pretend as though I would have become your wife if I'd been any different."

She lifted her fingers to stroke his cheek. "You were so much better than all of them. You were far more intelligent and more forward-thinking than they could even fathom at times. A regular wife would never have held your interest. So, you're right. I _was_ different because I was always two steps ahead of everyone else. I knew more, saw more, of the world and I've always been able to do things no one else can."

She smiled. "My love, you needed me as desperately as I needed you."

Suddenly at ease, he returned her smile and pulled her closer. "At least, we can agree upon that."

Her eyes fell closed as she burrowed against his body. "Ask me."

Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled to his back and held her tightly. "Ask you what?"

"Whatever you want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: A three person mission. Abraham. Warm baths and foot rubs. A first time experience.


	7. Chapter 7

For what felt like the hundredth time, he lifted a hand to brush his hair from his face as the gentle wind relentlessly whipped it back and forth; uncaring of how bothersome it was being.

The evening sun was slipping below the tree line, casting a dark hue over the lake. It was enough to make him resent having to venture out into the weather, which had the looks of threatening to break into a small storm any minute.

The clouds were thick overhead, dark and intimidating, leaving little light to soothe the world. It was the kind of day one wished to remain indoors next to a warm fire with book in hand, or, in his case, his wife in hand.

"Is she nearly here?"

His wife's fingers clasped his more tightly as she glanced up the road, her green eyes searching for the yet to be seen vehicle.

"She said she was leaving the station when she called. He switched the hand holding hers so he could run a soothing palm up and down her back. "She was fresh off duty."

Since Abbie's call half an hour earlier, he'd been trying to sell the idea of venturing away from the cabin's grounds in his wife's ear, but he wasn't sure how effective he'd been. She looked calm enough at the moment, but he knew Katrina could put on a brave front better and quicker than most. It was one quality he wished she didn't have in her heavy, and seemingly unending, arsenal.

"Are you alright?"

She gave half a shrug as she glanced up at him, a thin smile on her lips. "As alright as I can be, I suppose."

Not sure if that was comforting to him or not, he ran his knuckles down her arm. "I'll be with you every moment."

He received what seemed to him an obligatory nod, but she remained otherwise silent.

"I doubt we'll be gone long," he added, hoping to draw out her mood for inspection. "I just want you to be able to acquire things you might like, or I wouldn't have even asked."

"Ichabod," she whispered as she turned toward him, her face soft and kind. "I'm alright. I want to help."

The knot in his stomach was becoming more bothersome than the wind. "Are you sure? I don't want you to push yourself too much. If you're too uncomfortable-"

Laughter bubbled from her as she slid her arms around his waist and leaned up to brush her lips over his.

Gentle and slow, she caressed him with her barely there kiss, drawing him deeper into her with her light touch. It never failed to be obvious that she was much better at this sort of lure than he was. Whatever she wanted to perpetuate between them often began in this fashion.

Before he'd thought better of himself, he'd wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him, pressing harder against her and taking her small kiss much farther than he imagined she'd intended.

His palm and fingers laid flat against her spine as his other hand worked its way beneath her hair to hold her neck steady. For the life of him, he simply wanted her closer and could never seem to achieve pulling her close enough.

This had become a daily occurrence of late. They would get lost in one another for minutes and sometimes hours at a time. However, they never went beyond the soft embrace of holding one another as they'd both agreed to wait until they were both ready and comfortable. The time in between was to be spent learning how to live with one another again and he was enjoying every minute of it. It was as though they were learning each other all over again.

She lavished him with her attention, giving her all over into helping him become at ease with who she was, both as his wife and as a witch. She took her time explaining the intricacies that came with her magic and what was to be expected of her and their baby. She told him story after story of her adventures as a girl with learning who she was and how she'd eventually mastered her abilities enough to take over leadership of her coven.

He, on the other hand, provided her with all the love he held within himself for her. Every morning, he would rise half an hour earlier than usual to build a fire to warm the cabin for her. Then, he would prepare her a breakfast that he prayed would sit well with her stomach. So far, it was only bacon and other overwhelming smells that seemed to bother her to the point of illness.

Throughout the rest of the day, he would basically follow her around the yard, listening to her speak of all the wonders nature provided. She mused that the world truly had all it needed at its fingertips if only it would open its eyes and see.

He marveled over the way life thrived in her presence. Plant and animal life alike would reach for her as she walked through the small paths among the trees; yearning for her attention; her touch. He'd even had the small thrill of having a squirrel eat nuts out of his hand.

It had been the most wondrous thing.

Katrina had laughed at him, of course, when he'd arose and exclaimed over the meeting between man and animal, but he hadn't minded. Anything that brought a smile and gentle laughter to her soul was enough to prompt foolishness from him however many times she needed.

Her lips slowly slid from his, leaving him to soak in deep breath after deep breath of the air she'd deprived him of, not that he was complaining.

"You mesmerize me," he whispered, the smell of her lingering with him, as he finally opened his eyes to see her grinning.

"I'm well aware." Her hand reclaimed his. "I know you're worried for me, but I feel much better about venturing out now than I did before. The only thing I'm truly concerned about now is conversing with other people without appearing too different."

He brushed his hand over her hair. "People are going to adore you."

She smiled and shook her head.

For whatever reason, it seemed she didn't believe him. He'd simply have to be sure to prove his words one way or another.

"I've been practicing my control over my magic and I do have greater control of it than I did the last time we went out, but it still drains me too quickly. Usually, I can go a whole day without tiring after its use, but now... the smallest things make me feel so weary."

"Which is why you shouldn't push yourself so hard," he pressed, hoping she understood how serious he was about maintaining her safety. "Not just for your own health, but our child's as well."

She leaned her head to his chest. "I promise I'm not pushing. I haven't used it too much today."

The approach of Abbie's vehicle interrupted whatever words he might have conjured to further attempt soothing her.

Relieved she was here at last, he waved to his friend through the window and opened the back door for Katrina.

Once she was in, he grasped the seat belt and pulled it over her body to secure her.

"Is this alright?" He eyed the material wrapping around her. "Is it too tight?"

A small smile stretched dented her cheeks. "It's fine."

Meeting her eyes for his own assurance, he sighed in relief before closing her door and moving to open his.

"You guys ready for another adventure? I must say, this is a mission we've certainly never embarked on before."

Almost groaning at how cheerful Abbie appeared, he shook his head. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

"So do you like white bread, or whole wheat?"

Katrina stared at the two bags Abbie was presenting like they were a puzzle she couldn't quite decipher.

"I'm not sure," she said as she twisted her hands together. "Are they very different?"

Reaching for the yellow bag of bread, he set it in the buggy. "The white will be fine."

Since they'd stepped foot inside Wal-Mart, Katrina had been like a small child at her first carnival. Everything was brilliant and amazing while still being terrifying all at once.

She'd marveled over the abundance of food and clothing laid out around the store, wondering at how many seamstresses it had taken to conjure so many different sizes and quantities.

As he pulled a jug of milk from its shelf, Abbie said, "It must be nice to be able to just pick that up instead of bothering a cow for it."

"Oh, yes," Katrina said with a laugh. "The worst was freezing, cold mornings and a stubborn cow. I spent more time in the barn during my youth than I did in my bed."

"What about you, Crane?" Abbie asked with a raised brow. "Spend a lot of time out in the barn growing up?"

"I didn't live in the country," he tersely replied. "We had our groceries delivered to us."

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, I forgot you were a snobby, little, rich boy."

Meeting her gaze, he began a retort but was interrupted by Katrina.

"Ichabod was a poor farmer for sure." She grinned at him. "Shortly after we married, he set about making the most valiant attempts he could manage to think of as a means to impress my father."

"That's all in the past, my love," he said, praying she wouldn't continue.

"Do you recall that time you were attempting to milk Bell and she kicked you right off your stool?" Katrina laughed. "I thought my father would perish with laughter."

"Since when are my misfortunes so humorous to you?" He narrowed his eyes. "The two of you are forbidden from speaking of me amongst one another."

"Ok, grumpy," Abbie said as she backed away. "As you're so well versed in modern grocery shopping, I'm going to leave you to it."

With that, she set off down the aisle in search of her own supplies.

"Forgive me, my love." Katrina ran her hand down his arm. "I hope I haven't embarrassed you."

The slight nervousness in her voice softened his face.

"Of course not." He traced a finger down her cheek. "I'm just glad to see you smile."

At that, she gave a bright smile and walked alongside him, her eyes flitting over the many products.

"I can't believe how many different kinds of food there are of the same item." She looked up at him. "Is it not wasteful?"

"Oh, you'd be quite surprised over how much food is wasted in this modern era." He grabbed a can of coffee mate off the shelf. "This generation takes everything they have for granted."

Katrina nodded as she looked over the freezer section.

"Have you seen anything you want, yet?"

"I don't need much of this, my love." She smiled up at him. "I'll eat whatever you choose. You know better than I what is best."

While he appreciated her generosity, he couldn't help but sense the slight change in tone revealed in her voice.

"I want you to choose things for yourself." He stopped the buggy and reached for her hand. "All of this is ours, not just mine."

The strange look that passed over her features as she stared at the few items in the buggy didn't go unnoticed by him.

"It's all so expensive."

A shot to his heart was what her words brought. Here he was excited over finally having a job and his first paycheck to purchase groceries with while she was worrying over the cost.

Lifting her chin, he caught those blasted green eyes he so adored and hoped he was conveying the right amount of sincerity in his own gaze.

"That's not something I want you to fret over."

Despite his wish, she dropped her eyes.

"You worry over it all the time. I don't want to cause you any undue stress."

"Katrina," he whispered, his voice despairing. "The only thing that's going to cause me stress is your unhappiness."

"Don't attempt to cajole me, Ichabod Crane," she answered with a measure of ferocity. "I'm well aware of how deeply concerned you were about our finances."

Oh, so tempted to groan, he somehow managed to keep it to himself.

"Be that as it may," he went on in an even tone. "Things are different now. I've gained a form of employment which now allows me the income to provide for us."

"Income we shouldn't squander." She glanced at the buggy again. "We have a baby on the way and his or her needs far outweigh mine."

Taking a moment to stare at her and consider the obvious thought she'd put into this, he turned her face back to his.

"I understand your hesitance, but, as I'm the one who constantly worries, don't you think I've worried enough over the future to know if we're squandering or not?" When she only gave a small shrug, he smiled. "Please, pretend to be picking out things you want, or, at the very least, if I give you an option, choose one. It'll make me feel as though I'm getting you what you want."

Finally presented with the slightest of smiles, he watched her begin to walk again.

Shaking his head over the stubbornness she possessed, he followed behind her.

"Now, tell me, Mrs. Crane," he said as he caught up to her. "Are you still in possession of that sweet tooth?"

* * *

Tapping his fingers along the buggy's handle, he concentrated on cataloging the items within.

For the past ten minutes, he'd been waiting for Abbie and Katrina to return from searching for some private items and he was beginning to lose his patience over their absence.

Being parted from his wife in the midst of a multitude of people was not something he was enjoying. What if she became afraid? Or had an accident? A dozen scenarios flickered through his mind of all the reasons he should be with her.

At the end of his waiting, he pushed the buggy and set out in search of something to occupy him.

Toothpaste was now on his list.

The beauty department was hardly what he would deem a worthy title to this department. Did these people not know that men were less willing to shop in such a department? Couldn't they have named it something more fitting to everyone's needs? Cleanliness Department? Hygiene Department?

As he grumbled over the idiocy of some people, he turned his buggy down the proper aisle and set about searching for the desired item.

The only problem was that one didn't tend to go through tubes of toothpaste too quickly and, as a result, he'd never purchased the product for himself. This left him at a loss for which one he now needed as there were dozens that looked nearly exactly the same.

As he sagged against his buggy and stared at the shelves, he perked up at the sound of a familiar voice.

"I had a friend who said these really helped while she was pregnant."

Glancing around, he was at a loss for the sight of Abbie.

"If you think it's appropriate," Katrina replied, a certain uncertainty in her voice.

They were on the next aisle over, he finally concluded as he moved closer to the opposite shelving.

"Look, I know you and Crane have been dealing with all kinds of stuff that hardly goes along with a normal pregnancy. Being from a different century can be tough and I know it's causing him stress. I imagine you're dealing with that, too."

He leaned against the buggy and sighed.

"Plus, that ex of yours running around town isn't exactly helping Crane's nerves," Abbie added. "I know not long ago he was in need of some reassurance."

"Abraham is hardly a reason for Ichabod to feel oddly towards me," Katrina said softly. "The fact that he took things this far goes to show that Ichabod should feel more sure than ever that he's my love."

"So, were you and him serious at all?" Abbie asked, more curiosity laced in her voice than he would have imagined. "I know Crane said it was an arranged thing, but that's Crane talking. No guy wants to admit their wife had any sort of relationships before them."

Slightly miffed, he rolled his eyes.

Abraham and Katrina were hardly a relationship.

"Oh, well, Abraham was... quite the catch by anyone's standards. He was wealthy, funny, intelligent, and very handsome."

Heat swept along his collar as he suddenly became aware that he was eavesdropping on a conversation he no more wanted to overhear than Katrina likely wanted him to, yet for some reason he couldn't bring himself to move.

"He sounds like a real Casanova."

"On the surface, he was," Katrina said. "But there was so much about him that was cemented in stone. He wasn't willing to change. This is hardly to mention his temper. He wanted things a certain way and if anyone failed to meet his expectations, they always paid for it in some way or another. I suppose it wouldn't have mattered what he was like. No matter his personality, he wasn't someone who made my heart quicken. He didn't make me laugh, or wish to prolong our walks and dinners."

She laughed.

"Ichabod, on the other hand, never failed to make me smile. He could tell the absolute worst joke and just the sheer lunacy of it would have me in tears."

"I can see it now," Abbie said, her voice soft. "Your love for him."

"Miss Mills, I know this is an awkward and quite strange set of circumstances we find ourselves caught in. We're from completely different backgrounds, worlds even. You represent everything that women like me could only have dreamed of so long ago." Katrina paused. "But I hope we can find a way to be friends eventually, not because we were forced together through our connections with Ichabod, but because we've truly found a place in our hearts for one another."

Abbie didn't speak for a minute and it had him practically sweating.

"Can the kid call me Auntie?"

Katrina laughed. "Of course. There was never a question."

Finally having enough of his own spying, he composed himself and pushed the buggy to the next aisle.

"Have the two of you found what you needed yet?"

Two sets of eyes whirled around to face him.

"I told you to wait close to the register," Abbie groaned.

However, he hardly heard her as the items Abbie began moving from her buggy to his were far too intriguing.

A few bottles of soaps and medicines were expected, but the next item wasn't.

Red panties.

 _Lacy_ red panties.

Hot under the collar, he averted his eyes to the shelves next to him, desperately attempting to swipe the images from his mind.

However, that hardly helped as tampons were right in his face, an item he no more wanted to see than he'd wanted to know the purpose of. That was a conversation Miss Jenny had found far too much enjoyment over the one and only time he'd shopped with her.

"I, uhm," he cleared his throat and took to staring at the ground. "I was worried."

"Worried?" Abbie chuckled. "More like nosey."

Sure he was beet red, he finally met Katrina's eyes to find her standing with her hands behind her back and her eyes downcast.

Glad the material was at least out of sight, he managed to regain his composure.

"I was searching for toothpaste."

Abbie raised an eyebrow. "Do you have everything now?"

Sensing she might be on to his spying as the toothpaste was sitting on top of his other groceries, he stood straighter. "Yes."

A knowing glint passed over her face as she proceeded to push her buggy toward the front of the store.

More than ready to depart from this loathsome department, he looked at Katrina who was still avoiding his eyes. She was clearly embarrassed, something he couldn't stand.

Reaching out for her hand, he waited for her eyes and smiled. "I love you."

The faintest of smiles graced her face, making him feel a great deal more comfortable.

"Are you ready to return home?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "If you are."

"So, you're enjoying your time out then?" he asked, hopeful of her answer.

"Oh, yes." She nodded toward Abbie as her face relaxed. "Abigail has made me feel much better about the world."

"Has she?"

"Well, I suppose actually spending time with her has helped even if it only was a few minutes." She looked up at him. "It's the unknown that made me so fearful."

That, of course, made all the sense in the world.

"But you're not fearful any longer?"

"Oh, I am," she said with a laugh. "I simply know I'm capable of overcoming it and I'm now much more willing to face it."

"You guys coming?"

Glancing up the aisle, he found Abbie waiting, hand on her hip and eyebrows raised.

Shaking his head, he released Katrina's hand and followed Abbie's path.

Once in line, he went over a mental checklist of everything they had to make sure nothing had been missed; most especially the essentials. The last thing he wanted was to forget something and be forced to return to this busy place.

Confident everything was accounted for, he glanced around the checkout line at the various magazines, the likes of which had him diverting his eyes almost immediately.

When had it become appropriate for women to go with so little clothing, most especially in places where children ran about? Sometimes, he truly wondered about the world he'd spent so much of his life fighting for at times.

Katrina's hands fisting in the back of his shirt drew his gaze to her.

She was biting her lip, her gaze fixed on the floor, and she looked uncomfortable.

Concerned over her sudden change in mood, he placed a hand to her back and asked, "My love is everything alright? You seem downcast."

She gave him a tight smile, though she didn't meet his eyes. "I'm fine."

Not at all convinced, he glanced back at Abbie who nodded toward the register.

Eyes following her direction, he was met with the scrutinizing gaze of a woman who appeared to be in her thirties; well dressed, and immaculately painted in thick makeup. She had a young son, who was rioting through the various packages of candy behind her and tossing them on the ground.

However, the woman was hardly paying him attention and it became increasingly obvious to him that the woman was staring at his clothing, switching between looking at him and looking at Katrina.

Her thoughts he could guess as he'd been met with them numerous times before.

The odd thing was, he and Katrina had been met with such stares many times in the past; dirty looks over their sordid affair behind Abraham's back. With Abraham's death and their quick marriage thereafter, there had been a question of if foul play was involved on his part and, perhaps, even Katrina's.

Then, came the looks of disgust and judgment over the other circumstances around their marrying. Little wealth had existed between them other than the small amounts he'd received for his efforts with Washington and hers from her nursing. For more than a year, they'd scraped by on many occasions, going without many of the small luxuries he'd have given just about anything to provide her with.

At times, he'd left her money and gone to hungrily stay with his men in camp just so she would eat and not fret over him going without food. Their struggles had been a very trying thing, but Katrina had always had faith that they would make it through and come out better than before. Her endless hopefulness had always amazed him.

As the war began in full force, he'd ascended in the ranks and, before too long, he'd found himself a Captain. In time, he became a respected member of the small town they called home, the same town who'd once rejected their love.

Soon after, he'd purchased his love a large house in town, one she'd protested every step of the way.

They'd been blessed.

Now, though, they were back to square one, even the judgmental looks returning. Granted, the woman's looks were likely all for him and thoughts of why Katrina was with him, but it hardly mattered. She was bothering his beloved and he wasn't having it.

"May I help you, madam?"

Katrina tensed at his side and he just knew every inch of her protested his addressing of the situation.

The woman's eyes widened as she finally met his serious gaze.

"Oh, I was just-"

"Perhaps, if you turned your attention to your own child rather than worrying about what others are doing, he wouldn't be acting thusly."

Beet red, either from embarrassment or anger, the woman spun around to face the cashier as she handed her the receipt and grabbed up her son before hauling him out of the store by his upper arm with him squealing the whole way.

"Ichabod," Katrina muttered, rubbing at her eyes. "My love, she was nearly gone."

"It's never alright for someone to make you feel less than you are." He placed his hand to her cheek and caught her eyes. "You are beautiful, kind, and far more intelligent than you've ever been given credit for by anyone, me included. Never again will I permit anyone to treat you as less than you deserve."

The glisten in her eyes was enough to prompt him to pull her into his embrace and wrap his arms around her waist.

A moment passed before Abbie nudged his arm as she pushed her buggy past his to begin checking out, clearly sensing the two of them needed a moment the cashier didn't look willing to give them.

If only everyone were so considerate.

* * *

As he set the jug of milk in the refrigerator, he heard the water start in the bathroom.

Good, he thought as he returned to the other groceries. At least, she was caring for herself like he'd begged her to do.

The moment they'd walked through their front door, he'd all but demanded she go make herself comfortable and rest. He didn't want to seem too overprotective, but he could hardly stand to see her so tired which she'd admitted she was during the drive home.

Then, of course, that woman's judging glances had to be taken into account. The audacity of her to look at them a certain way while her child went without supervision.

Whatever the case, he was just glad Katrina had consented to allow him to take care of their groceries while she took care of herself.

In the last bag, he found the tube of toothpaste and a bottle he didn't recognize as having purchased.

Picking it up, he read the label and realized it must have been what Katrina and Abbie had been looking for when he'd been eavesdropping earlier.

It was a bottle of body wash meant to soothe and relax the muscles, or so it bragged anyway.

The longer he stared at it, the longer he felt the urge build in him to take it to her. If she'd purchased such a thing, then she must be feeling the need for it.

The only problem was the very bare state he would find her in and the fact that he'd yet to look upon his wife in such a fashion since waking in this century. He knew he'd hardly be able to avoid keeping his eyes off her body.

Steeling his nerves, he tightened his hold on the bottle and set the course that would hopefully lead to bridging the gap that was keeping them from being at complete comfort in each other's presence again.

Upon reaching the bathroom door, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and rapped his knuckles against the wood.

"Yes?"

"May I-" He cleared his throat and laid his hand on the handle. "May I come in? I have some things that belong in there."

A moment's pause, long enough to have his heart hammering, passed before her soft voice met his ears.

"Of course, my love."

Gently pushing the door open just enough to slip through, he made sure to keep his eyes plastered to the floor; a task he found harder than he'd imagined it would be.

"I uhm, I have the soap you procured today." He shifted his feet. "I thought you might like to have it."

"Oh, yes, thank you for bringing it to me."

Unsure what to do, he held out his hand and felt the slick feel of her skin as she took the bottle from him.

"Well, I'll just-"

"Will you wash my back?"

So startled as to actually lift his eyes to her, he stuttered, "I-I'm sorry?"

The small smile that touched her lips had his throat suddenly as dry as a few of the founding fathers' humor.

"I can't reach it and it's bothering me quite a bit." She lifted a white cloth from the water's depths. "Please?"

Wordlessly accepting the cloth, he moved around the tub and knelt behind her while attempting to steady his breathing.

The smooth skin of her back presented so freely to him had his body flushing from head to toe making him feel like a school boy getting his first generous glance of a woman's bosom.

Was that his pulse throbbing in his throat? It surely felt as though it was.

When she leaned her body forward and moved her hair up the back of her head to hold it out of the way, a thrill pulsed in his trousers.

Clearing his throat again, he tentatively laid the cloth to her shoulder and watched as the excess water ran in small lines down her back, something he couldn't help but allow his eyes to follow.

"Is everything alright?"

Her voice was soft, but held enough curiosity to pull his eyes up to find her gaze trained on the swirling water, the hint of a smile on her lips.

"Are you enjoying the torment you're stirring within me?"

Laughter shook her body.

"Actually, I am," she said, her voice full of mirth as she turned her head to look at him with amusement sparkling in her eyes. "You're so flustered."

Katrina teasing him was a familiar past time of long ago days. No matter how much he tended to complain about her doing such things to him, he'd always secretly enjoyed it, secretly longed for more of it. To have her attention and focus fixated on him had always been enough for him that it didn't really matter what she was doing, so long as it was all for him.

Not having any more of her continuing in the powerful hold she had, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

"And you're beautiful."

A quiver ran down her spine, drawing a grin across his lips as he continued to press his mouth along the expanse of her neck and shoulders.

All the tempting, but safe kisses they'd partaken of over the past weeks was paling in comparison to the feel of this, to the feel of so much of her flesh bared before him.

It went so far as to the point that he was beginning to drown in her skin just as surely as if he stuck his head under the water below. She was so smooth, so welcoming. How could he continue to resist this beautiful creature who was so trustingly willing to do anything he wished?

A soapy hand touched his face as she turned her body toward his.

Then, her lips were caressing with his, causing his breathing to labor even further.

He placed a firm hand to the back of her neck as the other gripped the edge of the tub to keep himself aware and out of the water.

However, it was hardly helpful that she kept pulling him deeper and deeper into her kiss, not relenting in the least. If anything, she was practically pulling him into the tub with her.

No, wait. That was her pressing against him, her wet front soaking through his shirt.

Detaching from her, he made the mistake of looking downward.

"Oh, God," he whispered as he took in the sight before him.

She was on her knees in front of him, her body mere inches from his; bare; wet; tempting. Her all too alluring breasts pulsed with each inhalation and the view between them led to a path he couldn't bring himself to gaze upon just yet.

Jerking his gaze up, he met her gold green eyes and groaned at the knowledge glinting within them.

"You truly are a bewitching creature." He rested his forehead to hers. "What am I to do with you?"

"Forgive me?" she asked hopefully, the corner of her lips twitching.

"I believe I'm the one who started this."

She shook with laughter. "I'd love to allow you to believe that, but I'm afraid I've had this planned since before Abigail dropped us at the door."

Pulling back from her, he narrowed his eyes. What on earth was she talking about?

She smiled as though he'd asked his question aloud.

"I spoke of being tired in the car and then I purposefully left the soap in the kitchen. I knew you'd read it and wonder if I needed it as you're always so worried about my comfort." She shrugged her shoulders. "All I needed do was wait and ask you to help me when you arrived."

Completely taken aback by her admission, he stared at her in shock.

"Are you angry with me?"

From her amused expression, he knew she was hardly concerned over any hard feelings on his part. Why should she be? She was a beautiful woman, bare and exposed, in his arms. Her entire evening had been spent attempting to lure him into her embrace. How could he possibly be angry with that? If anything, he should be honored over such intentions.

"A spy for Washington indeed," he finally said as he slipped his hands around her waist to pull her against him.

Her answering grin was impossible not to share in.

"I'll have you know, Mr. Crane," she whispered against his lips as she ran her hands up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair. "This is a brand new tactic I've never once implemented before now."

"Is that so?" He brushed his lips over hers a few times. "Well, my cunning little spy, you'd best get out of there before you catch your death."

With that, he pushed himself up and reached for a towel before holding it out for her.

"Come now before you freeze."

As she stood from the water, the excess running down her body, he found himself rooted to the spot as he took in the entirety of her form.

Curves and flawless skin. Red hair hanging around plump breasts. Gold Green eyes watching his every move.

"Ichabod, are you alright?"

"I'm not sure," he whispered in a cracked voice, the thick feel in his throat forcing him to swallow.

Her hand lifted and beckoned him forward, which he obeyed as he stepped closer and touched the towel to her arm.

She remained still, watchful, as he guided the towel over her wet form; making sure to catch every drop.

When he reached her breasts, he staggered over a breath as the soft flesh moved with his touch; effectively stirring that delicious burn in his trousers.

However, he somehow managed to not fumble and proceeded to continue down her body.

She placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself as he bent to wipe the towel over and between her legs; the latter of which causing the most restraint he'd used all day.

How he'd garnered the heart of such a beautiful creature was beyond his understanding, yet here he was in a place most men could only dream of.

When she was dry, he reached for the shirt she'd laid out and helped her slip it over her head before grabbing her hand and leading her into their room.

After sitting her on the bed, he moved to the dresser to retrieve the lotion she'd chosen and returned to kneel before her.

"Ichabod, you don't have to-"

He held up a finger. "Not a word."

She sighed, giving him the incentive to continue.

Squeezing some of the cream into his palm, he picked up her foot and set about massaging its soles.

"Oh," she moaned, prompting him to glance up at her and find her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted.

Internally pleased by her reaction, he renewed his efforts, switching between her feet while being sure to be thorough.

However, when her entire body tensed and she jerked upward, he thought he might have pressed into her soles too hard.

"Katrina?"

Her eyes were wide and startled and her breathing was sharp as she laid her hands over her belly.

"I felt our baby."

Unsure he'd properly heard her, he held her gaze with confusion swirling in his mind.

"You-" He glanced to her hands. "Truly?"

He hesitantly placed his hands over hers and met her eyes again. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." Her eyes began to glisten. "I've never felt anything like this."

Going up on his knees, he maneuvered between her legs and stared at their hands.

"What's it like?"

"I don't know how to describe it." She squinted. "I just know it's our baby."

Our baby.

She felt their baby.

Smiling at last, he said, "I can't wait to feel it for myself."

"Ichabod?"

Meeting her eyes again, he found tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" He cupped her face. "Katrina, what's wrong?"

"No, I'm fine, it's just-" She shook her head as a bright smile took her over. "I'm so happy."

Relief swelled in his chest.

"Oh, my love," he whispered as he caressed her cheek. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

"It's a girl," she said as she laid her hand over his.

"Is that what you want it to be?" he asked, imagining she was finally expressing a wish.

"No, it's what I know." She pulled his hand back to her belly. "I can't explain it. It's just something I feel certain of."

Taking a moment to allow her words to sink in, he frowned. "Is this another gift of yours?"

"It's not something that's supernatural," she explained. "I've seen common mothers at the infirmary voicing their beliefs over the sex of their child. They were always so certain. Sometimes, a mother just knows."

Nodding along with her, he stared at the place their hands rested.

A girl.

A daughter.

Truthfully, in his life, both past and present, he'd not spent much time considering having a daughter. He supposed as a boy who'd once been so close to his father, he'd been more apt to fantasize about having a son to teach; to impart his values and knowledge with over long walks and across the expanse of a book littered kitchen table while Katrina tended dinner, commenting here and there with a gentle smile and laugh.

"Are you disappointed?"

It was bothersome to him that she might think that. So, with a sigh, he moved their hands so he could lift her shirt and gaze at her smooth skin.

He, then, leaned forward to press a light kiss to her belly.

"Do you think she can hear me?"

Katrina's fingers threaded through his hair as he remained close to her skin.

"I'd like to imagine she could."

"Then, I think she deserves to know that her father cannot wait to meet her." He traced his finger around Katrina's belly button. "I'll treasure you every day, my sweet, little one, and I'll do everything within my power to keep you protected and cherished. You'll never know a day without love."

He pressed another kiss to Katrina's belly before looking up to her tear filled eyes.

"I imagine you'll be just as beautiful as your mother; mesmerizing, kind and caring."

Dropping her shirt, he leaned up and paused a breath from her face.

"You'd best not be wrong about her." He raised an eyebrow. "I have my heart set on a little girl now."

Katrina's eyes traced his face as she swallowed and lifted her hands to his neck. "How do you make me so happy with only the smallest of gestures?"

With a smile, he brushed his lip over hers before sliding them along her cheek and down her neck while his hands wound around her waist.

"I love you, Katrina." He slipped his hands under the shirt to slide along her back, taking in the smoothness of her skin. "I'm so blessed to be yours."

Little by little, he pushed her shirt up, touching every inch of her skin along the way.

She was so soft, so trusting.

When he pulled back to slip her shirt over her head, he caught those eyes; the one's he could stare into forever.

The gold green was bright and youthful; reminiscent of the day he'd asked her to be his wife.

There'd been no more hesitation on her part then than there was now.

Katrina had always known what she wanted.

Leaning forward, he gently caressed her lips with his own as his hands worked their way along her skin; their callousness adept and familiar with the angel beneath them.

She was so willing; her pace matching his as he touched her with the same gentleness he'd used on their wedding night.

What a night that had been.

He'd been a ball of nerves and she'd been so sure, so patient with his fumbling as the desire fueled pulse in his trousers grew by the second.

They might have caused a scandal in town, but that night, in that small, completely unworthy room, a sacred completion had taken place; a joining of body and soul.

"I knew the day I met you that you would forever change my life." He laid her back and leaned over her, his heart pounding in his ears. "I knew my course was forever changed; forever bound to yours."

Her fingers traced his jaw as she settled against the blankets. "Tell me what you said on our wedding night."

Pulling his shirt over his head, he pressed himself over her and nuzzled his face against her ear, breathing in her fresh scent.

"Man is meant to worship God above all others and I strive to do that every day." He dragged his lips over her warm skin. "But man is sinful; flawed and imperfect. I know this is true because the intentions within me are unchristian. I want to worship you like a man would a deity of the most high. I want to ravish you with my mouth and hands; make you feel like a woman enraptured with the greatest of pleasures possible without supernatural interference. I want to love you in such a way that will leave you feeling in your very soul that there is no greater connection in all the world than the one that begins with you and ends with me; the connection that makes us one being; one creature forever bound."

She trembled beneath him as his hands moved down her body, searching out places within her that had been untouched for centuries.

"Ichabod," she whispered, a breathless moan accompanying the sweet arch of her body.

"Tell me, my love." He pressed his lips to her neck. "Tell me what you said in return."

Her palms smoothed over his shoulders.

"Worship God first, dear husband. I'm willing to be second as I would rather be second in your eyes and under your touch for an eternity than be first for a few, short decades." She turned her face into his. "I want to be worshipped and ravished by you in this life and the next; for countless and innumerable years. I want to be one with you in terms of God's forever, not man's."

He smiled and traced his fingers along her jaw. "I could never express in words the depth to which my love and devotion runs for you."

Her face softened. "If words fail you, let your actions do their best."

With a shake of his head, he closed the space between them and when it was all over and his beloved was thoroughly sated, thoroughly aware of all she meant to him, he pressed his front to her back and his hand over hers.

Therein laid the place his last thoughts drifted toward.

That place that held the precious creation made from their connection.

His baby girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Another doctor's visit. A baby store. Mrs. O'Conner meets Katrina.
> 
> Sorry about the long delays. I'd write this chapter, delete it, then write it again. I hope everyone enjoys what finally came to be :)


	8. Chapter 8

_There was something very off putting about medical facilities._

_Perhaps, it was the cleaning products that made everything seem all the more sterile, or maybe it was the general atmosphere which resulted in everything being increasingly uncomfortable. One color dominated the hallways and rooms while the cold feel of metal seemed to be under one's hands at all times. It was impersonal; neutral to all feelings; detached. Everything was crisp and fresh, yet eerie as the solace of the room made the sounds coming through the door more hushed and spooky._

_Whatever it was, he was more than ready to be finished with it and back in the warmth of his home. Perhaps, cozied up next to the fire with a nice novel._

_Katrina, on the other hand, was sitting on the edge of the bed, patiently reading the various signs on the walls with all the ease of a woman in complete comfort. Just when had she become more comfortable in modern settings than he?_

_"Will our baby wear such outfits as that one there?"_

_More fully turning toward her, he followed her curious gaze to the rather large picture on the far wall of the room. It featured a young girl, likely around a year of age, wearing a pair of overalls with a bright, toothy grin; her blonde ringlets hanging around her ears._

_"Absolutely not," he spat while examining the picture with mild dissatisfaction. "For one thing, she's certainly not going to have blonde hair."_

_"My grandmother had blonde hair," she commented with a grin._

_Casting her a wary look, he crossed his arms, challenging her to dispute him on this. "That's hardly cause to believe our child will bear the same."_

_Katrina shrugged her shoulders as her legs began swinging back and forth. She reminded him of a young girl, carefree and weightless._

_"I wonder about such things." Her green eyes danced over the walls. "The presentation of a new baby was once quite the talk about town."_

_There it was._

_This timeline left them with a handful of friends and next to no acquaintances. Who would they present their child to upon her birth?_

_"Our baby will have plenty of people to dote over her," he replied as he eased up beside her._

_Katrina laughed as he took her hand, her eyes full of amusement._

_"I didn't mean it in a disappointing manner. I was simply curious over what mothers dressed their daughters in these days." She laid her free hand to his cheek, the smile she presented him with as bright as the evening stars. "You needn't worry so much, my love."_

_For his part, he fidgeted in displeasure._

_"I'm not worrying," he protested, even as her eyes narrowed in doubt. "_ I'm not _. I'm simply voicing an opinion based upon what you said."_

_Katrina shook her head, her hand dropping to his chest to begin twisting the strings of his shirt between her fingers._

_"And what opinion do you have about our daughter's state of dress?"_

_"I believe she'll be the most envied young lady in all of Sleepy Hollow."_

_"Is that so?" she asked with a chuckle before she met his eyes again. "You know, she'll be different from us."_

_A knot formed in his throat._

_"Yes," he whispered, that fact settling in his mind. "I know."_

_Comfortable silence fell between them as he considered just what she meant. A child born in the modern era would obviously have more modern knowledge than not. Their daughter would have an easier concept of the things he and Katrina daily struggled to understand. That fact both comforted and pained him._

_The door opening tore him from his thoughts as Dr. Steven's entered._

_"Sorry about that," she said as she closed the door behind her. "Now, where were we?"_

_He straightened himself and nodded to the machine pulled up beside the bed. "You were about to show us our baby."_

_"Of course." She moved to the machine and began typing away. "Mrs. Crane, why don't you lie back and we'll see about that little one."_

_As Katrina did as asked, he took up a stance beside the bed._

_"Alright then, let's see." The doctor brought out the same gel she'd used before and began spreading it over Katrina's belly with the device._

_More knowledgeable about what to look for this time, he held Katrina's hand as the monitor flickered on the opposite side of the bed._

_"So, we're still agreed upon learning the sex, correct?"_

_Katrina smiled as she looked up at him. "Yes, we're very excited to know."_

_Excited to have it confirmed more than anything else. While he had complete faith in Katrina's assertions, it was still going to be wonderful to have someone else say it aloud._

_"Well, then, let me be the first to say , congratulations, Crane family, you're having a little girl."_

_"It's-" He stared at the screen, wonder at the sight of the small creature before him filling his heart. "You're sure?"_

_"As sure as I can be at this point." The doctor said with a chuckle. "There's still room for surprise, but I'd place money on it."_

Since that moment, he'd been lit up inside with the idea of it.

A little girl.

Yes, Katrina had already voiced her opinion and he'd been satisfied with her theory, but to have actual proof, an actual photograph, was more than enough to have him over the moon and soaring amongst the stars.

"Oh, Ichabod, this is beautiful," Katrina whispered as she lifted the small dress from the bag. "But, my love, it's too much."

Hearing nothing of it, he ran a hand down her arm. "What did we agree upon?"

"I don't recall agreeing on anything so much as you expressing a wish to be the only one concerned over our finances." She smoothed the dress over her lap. "I can't believe how soft the material is."

Excited once again, he took her by the hand and tugged her from the bench.

"That's nothing," he said as he pulled her over to a particular rack of items. "Feel this blanket."

As she did, he observed her eyes widen as she pulled the material close to her chest.

"How do you know about all these things?" She glanced around the store. "Strollers and basinets seem a bit out of your area of expertise and, yet, you've astounded me with your knowledge."

He shrugged his shoulders as he refolded a blanket that had been carelessly tossed onto the rack. The _audacity_ of some people.

"My lunch break is rather long," he mumbled, embarrassed for himself and wishing very much to not speak of the matter.

"And you spend your free time here?"

Rolling his eyes, he set the blanket down. "I simply find myself drawn to these things. I want to know how it all works before she arrives. The last thing we want to do is buy a cheap stroller and have it collapse in on itself with our baby inside it."

Yes, he was aware that he might have been spending too much time exploring the small shop, but he couldn't help himself. A particular crib in the window had caught his eyes one day when he'd been on his way to work and he'd ended up being a half hour late to the bookstore because of it. The wooden frame had looked like an antique and he'd been proven right upon asking the sales associate about it.

After that, he'd found himself wandering around the small shop, browsing through the different sections and even learning from a few expectant mothers that there were books he should be reading.

So, he'd found them at the bookstore and, while he was free from the counter, he'd been thumbing through them and learning all that was to be expected of him as a father.

The plethora of information on babies and what came with them was unlike anything he would have expected. Book after book presented itself and he found himself memorizing more and more of their contents to share with Katrina when the time came.

However, that was then, and, at this moment, he found himself wishing he would have slipped the knowledge in more subtly as to not appear so foolish.

Finally lifting his gaze, he found her staring at him, her lips twitching as though she were trying to prevent laughter.

"There's nothing wrong with being well informed," he muttered as he ran a hand over the blankets. "I enjoy having all the facts."

Her answering touch was tender and as she stroked her fingers along his back, he turned to find her smiling up at him.

"The lady at the register seems to think I'm a blessed woman." She tangled her fingers in the loop of his trousers. "And I find that I'm inclined to agree with her."

Pleased to hear so, he slipped his arms around her waist. "Are you?"

"Mhm." She leaned up to brush her lips against his. "How I love you, Ichabod Crane."

Unable to help himself, he reached behind her and picked up an item to bring between them.

"Someone else is going to feel the same."

When her eyes fell to the cloth in his hand, she chuckled.

"Daddy's Princess." Her gave flickered up to him as she smiled. "What is this?"

"A bib," he answered matter of factly before turning it around. "She'll wear it while she eats."

"Will she?" Katrina shook her head, amusement lacing her features. "We're not going to spoil her, Ichabod."

"Of course not," he replied, even as he avoided her gaze. "But she must have at least one of these and I say this is the perfect one."

"Whatever you say, daddy."

Delighted at the sound of being referred to as such, he took her hand and began leading her toward the door.

"Is it odd that I prefer the more modern term for father than the previous one?"

Katrina grinned as she ran her fingers over a shelf full of photo frames. "Not at all. I think it sounds more innocent; more... connected and familial."

"And you?" He opened the door and held it for her. "What will you like to be called?"

As she squinted up the street in the bright morning light, she shrugged her shoulders. "It doesn't really matter. I suppose it's best to allow her the choice as she grows, but I imagine she'll call us what other children of this century call their parents."

His mind went wild with the possibilities.

Just the very idea of a child looking up at them, her big eyes full of innocence and love, and calling them her own was so heartwarming. It was a reality in the making.

Threading his fingers through Katrina's, he lifted their hands to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"I'm already helplessly devoted to her every whim."

Katrina laughed, the sweet sound carrying between them as they moved up the sidewalk.

"Oh, my love," she said, her voice light and carefree. "You're going to be no help at all when it comes to discipline, are you?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied with a shrug. "I shall be her willing servant and obedient comrade in arms."

Katrina glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You'll follow a child's orders, but not mine?"

Not having considered such things, he blanched. "Oh, well... I suppose I shall spend the rest of my days torn between my loves, helplessly caught in the mix of attempting to please both of you at once."

"Some soldier you are," she said with a roll of her eyes before coming to a halt and pointing ahead. "Is this it?"

"Is what it?" he asked, his eyes tearing from her face to see the bookstore before them. "Oh, yes, but-"

"Well, let's go in," she said, already reaching for the handle. "I'd like to meet this woman you're all the time going on and on about so much."

Truth be told, he simply didn't want to get caught up in Mrs. O'Conner's endless questioning. If she and Katrina began talking, he feared he may never escape the store.

As she pulled him behind her, he groaned. "My love, perhaps, another time would be better."

"We don't have anything else to do," she said, her eyes already absorbing the room.

Running his hand down her spine, he rested it along the lower part of her back and leaned close to her ear. "I could think of a few things we could do."

Her breathing faltered, but she didn't meet his gaze. "I would think you'd have had your fill by now."

Scoffing at the very idea, he brushed a kiss to the skin below her ear. "Never."

"Oh, Ichabod, you've finally brought that wife of yours."

The _timing_ of that woman.

With the most courteous smile he could conjure, he turned to his approaching employer.

"Mrs. O'Conner," he greeted with a nod. "I'd like to introduce you to Katrina."

For her part, Katrina stepped forward of her own volition and took Mrs. O'Conner's hand. "It's so wonderful to finally make your acquaintance. Ichabod speaks so highly of you."

The woman raised an eyebrow and peeked around at him, doubt lacing her wizened eyes.

"I imagine, he does." She, then, returned her attention to Katrina with renewed enthusiasm. "My dear, you are positively lovely."

Katrina laughed as he moved up behind her, pride for his love swelling in his chest as he placed a hand against her back.

"I told you she was."

Mrs. O'Conner nodded, her agreeable expression an extra contributor to his words. "Yes, he did. The man never quiets about you."

What felt like butterflies welled in his belly when Katrina smiled up at him. "Is that so?"

Not caring to acknowledge how deeply she affected him, he rolled his eyes and answered, "It's more so about the baby than anything else."

"Oh, hush, you," Mrs. O'Conner said as she swiped at his arm. "Don't let him fool you, dear. He's a hopeless romantic with his heart well in your hands."

Katrina's smile was not to be contained as she laid a hand over her belly.

"So, how did that appointment go?" Mrs. O'Conner placed her hands on her hips. "Is it a little sir or madam?"

He nodded to Katrina, who positively beamed as she said, "It's a girl."

"Oh," Mrs. O'Conner squealed. "How delightful."

Digging in his coat pocket, he produced the small picture the doctor had given him and handed it to Mrs. O'Conner.

"Well, look at that." Her lips smacked as she tapped him on his chest. "You're going to have your hands full soon. Little girls are not to be trifled with, especially in this day and age. They do everything the boys do and then some."

"Th-they do?" he asked, suddenly fearing the worst. "What does that entail exactly?"

She patted his arm. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, dear."

With that, she took Katrina by the arm and began leading her toward the back of the store.

"Don't worry after us, Ichabod," she called over her shoulder as Katrina glanced back at him, an excited smile plastered to her face. "You don't mind watching the front do you?"

Not even bothering to wait for his answer, she and Katrina disappeared around a corner.

"Well, she can't say I didn't warn her."

* * *

"Oh, Ichabod, she's just delightful," Katrina said as she bounced on the sofa. "I don't know what you were talking about when you said she was nosey. She's just curious about life is all."

For the past two hours, he'd minded the customers while Katrina and Mrs. O'Conner talked out of his sight, leaving him to wonder just how much of the conversation was centered on him.

Every so often, he'd heard Mrs. O'Conner's boisterous laughter, which had done nothing to dull his curiosity.

Now, finally returned home, Katrina was still going on about the elderly woman.

"She's not able to get out much with how bad her arthritis is and she only wants to know about other's lives. One could hardly blame her."

Removing his boots and placing them by the door, he tiredly made his way over to her and set their bags down.

"Is that not what being nosey is?" He collapsed to the sofa beside her. "When one is overly interested in another's business?"

Katrina regarded him with a withering glare. "Don't be so critical of her. She's done a great deal for our family with her generosity. You should be grateful."

Surprised by her gumption, he chuckled.

"I adore the woman, my love." He saddled up next to her and whispered in her ear. "I was only complaining for attention."

She pulled back to look at him, her face a picture of shock. "What?"

"You heard me," he replied as he stroked his fingers along her belly. "I want all your sympathy and attention forever fixed upon me."

"Ichabod," she exclaimed, her voice higher. "You-"

Mouth on hers, he lifted his hand and slipped it into her hair to hold her close as he explored the inner treasures between her lips.

She tasted of pickles from the sandwich she'd had for lunch and he found himself wanting to peel the taste from her tongue.

When she succumbed to his advances, her hands working along his form, he pressed further into her, effectively guiding her back on the sofa to where he was leaning over her.

Oh, how he loved kissing her. The way she was quick to give into his will, sneakily luring him into a false sense of comfort, only to pounce when he least expected it, taking him by surprise and seizing control for herself.

His wife was a sure wonder, that was for certain.

Teasingly dragging his lips off hers, he lifted himself up while smiling down at her flushed form, the pink tint of her cheeks delighting him.

As she regained her bearings, her chest rising and falling in time with his, she whispered, "I find myself lost for what we were previously discussing."

"You were going to say something about my duplicitous nature?"

Her eyebrow arched as she ran her fingers down his chest. "No... I don't think so."

"Oh?" he asked, curious to hear this through. "If I'm mistaken, what was occurring, then?"

"You were informing me of how much you adore my attention and how..." She tickled her fingers along his abdomen. "Much you want to continue keeping my thoughts focused upon you."

"Mmm." He sagged against her, placing his full weight over her. "And what methods do you think would best serve me in my quest to do such a thing?"

A grin flashed over her face as she began tugging his shirt up his sides. "I believe you were on the right track moments ago."

"Ah." He shook his head and brushed his lips to her cheek. "Is that so?"

"Very much so," she whispered as she scratched along his back. "Do continue, my love."

As he began trailing light kisses up her jaw, he whispered, "Nothing could stop me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Late night cravings. Self-consciousness. Perhaps a massage or two.


	9. Chapter 9

"Ichabod."

The brush of her hair tickled his skin as her lips, soft and smooth, pressed along his shoulder, joined by her hands as they caressed the broad expanse of his chest, her fingernails scratching here and there as she went, sending little prickles over his skin.

"Mmm," he groaned, burrowing further into his pillow, desperate to find his lost dream; the one that had him back in England with his mother sneaking him tastes of the supper brewing on the stove as his father pretended not to notice from behind the book he was reading.

His body rocked forward slightly as her leg slipped between his and took to sliding up and down while she leaned close to his ear. "I'm hungry."

Even half conscious, her warm breath still managed to spark a twinge of need between his thighs. She was pressed so flush into his back that he swore he could feel her heartbeat through her thin nightgown, the thud of it hard and steady.

"Are you awake?"

What sort of question was that? She knew very well that she'd awoken him. Tiredly rolling to his back, he grasped her arm and tugged her to straddle his waist before relaxing against the sheets.

"I haven't the energy to properly love you." He dropped his hands to smooth over her thighs and closed his eyes. "Do with me as you will."

A soft laugh shook the both of them as she leaned over him, strands of hair tickling his chest as the warmth of her body seeped into his.

"That's not the kind of hungry I meant." Her thighs tightened around his waist as she kissed his neck. "Will you prepare me a grilled cheese?"

Surely not.

Eyes snapping open, he sunk his head deeper into the pillow as he caught her arms and tugged her away from him.

"What?"

The room was too dark to see much more than her outline, leaving him to strain to find her face.

"I'm famished."

Baffled by her answer, he stretched out to flip the lamp switch. As light swept over the room, he turned to her with his brow knit tightly.

"You want a grilled cheese now?" He cast an incredulous look at the clock. "It's three a.m."

She rocked back on her calves and turned her shoulders inward as she pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Please? I tried to ignore it, but I just can't any longer."

With her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her eyes conveying that innocence she could always so easily draw around her, she looked too adorable to resist.

"Very well," he muttered as he sat up, sliding his hands over her waist and along her back, and took a taste of her lips. "You devilishly delicious woman."

A chuckle bubbled in her throat as she pulled back and slithered off him with a gleeful bounce. "Thank you."

Rolling his eyes, he threw back the covers and slid from the bed, his bare feet finding the old wooden floor too chilly for his liking. The night air was cool against his skin as he made his way into the kitchen, flipping lights on as he went while suppressing the yawn that would surely surpass all yawns.

"Grilled cheese," he muttered to himself as he pulled the refrigerator open, only finding even cooler air within. "She couldn't possibly accept an apple or some warm milk."

As he switched the front burner on, he began spreading butter over the bread.

Sleep still clung to him, making him wish this was all some dream and that he was actually presently in bed and not standing in the middle of the kitchen preparing food at three in the morning. He sincerely hoped this was what a loving and supportive husband was meant to be. If not, he was certainly doomed because he wasn't sure of any other way he could be more at her whim. He cooked what she wanted, when she wanted. He cleaned the yard and the house for her comfort, making sure nothing was left out that might stress her in either mind or body. He made love to her every time he felt she might feel the slightest longing, or twinge of need. All of this was also done on top of performing his duties as a witness. Thankfully, demon instances had been fairly light of late, but that didn't mean he wasn't constantly on pins and needles every minute of every day due to worry that an untimely case might present itself.

Katrina was finally at ease with being alone, but he still felt the need to be with her for most of the day. Her power was steadily growing, a testament to her unrelenting practice each morning. In truth, he was quite surprised at the amount of magic she possessed. It really wasn't a wonder to him how she became the leader of her coven at such a young age. Her magic was just as cutting as her eyes could be at times.

With a sigh, he double checked that everything was switched off before he began making his way back to her. The balancing act he was performing with the saucer, glass of milk, and bottle of water was a testament to how desperately he wished to hurry along this late night interruption to his sleep. The sooner she had her meal, the quicker he'd find himself once again enshrouded by the warmth of his blankets and the soft embrace of his pillows.

However, upon crossing the threshold to their room, he found his famished wife not in the bed where he'd left her, but standing in front of the dresser mirror, her hands smoothing over her belly as she stared at herself with a tightly drawn expression.

For a moment, he stood and watched her, intrigued by what she was doing. The way she was caressing the place their child rested, her fingers tracing the slight bump now giving evidence to the life growing within her. A smile tugged at his lips as she smoothed her palm flat to her belly. How greatly he cherished what was just inches from her hand.

Carefully setting her food and drink on the bedside table, he tentatively slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist to rest his hands over her own.

"You're the most beautiful creature with who God ever graced this world." He pressed a kiss to her ear as he caught her eyes in the mirror. "Our daughter will be the same."

Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she rested her head against his shoulder. "Will you still want to make love to me?"

Unsure what she meant, he pressed a kiss to her neck. "Always."

"I mean, when I'm unattractive," she whispered, her fingers tickling over his. "I'll be heavy with child and my skin will be stretched and..."

"Heavy with _my_ child." He tightened his hold around her. "You can't imagine how attractive such knowledge is." He smiled as he caressed her belly. "The evidence will only grow my pride and desire to have you."

"I hope you're not just telling me what I want to hear." Her eyes flickered to their hands. "I've never had to worry about men finding me undesirable. I know it sounds conceited, but I've always been given more because of my beauty. It's why Abraham wanted me in the first place."

"Katrina, your beauty isn't all that you are."

Her body sagged as she untangled from him and paced away while dragging a hand through her hair.

"I know it's not all that I am, but it _is_ the first thing people notice about me." She lifted her eyes to his. "Admit it. It was what you noticed when you first laid eyes upon me. You desired me as a man who wished to bed me."

Quite at a loss for words and hardly trusting his mind at this late hour, he said, "Well, yes, I noticed your beauty."

Her shoulders slumped forward, prompting him to quickly add, "But the moment you opened your mouth, I knew you were far more than your appearance."

"Ichabod, I know you love me, but I want you to be honest." She held his eyes, an earnest yearning in her gaze that left him standing stock still with his heart quickening its beat. "If I hadn't looked the way I did, would you have been half as interested in pursuing me?"

For the love of all that was holy, was she really going to force him into this conversation? At his hour? Hadn't she been starving only a handful of minutes earlier? What happened to that? What of the food on the bedside table that was growing colder by the second? What of the weariness in his very bones that ached for sleep?

"I-" He crossed his arms, but found that to be too uncomfortable, forcing him to drop them to his sides. "I love you."

The way all the air and hope seemed to leave her was a testament to the fact that he was not passing this particular test.

For God's sake.

"This isn't a fair conversation, Katrina," he protested as he held a hand out toward her. "I could ask you the same."

"I was intrigued by your unwillingness to harm Arthur Bernard," she answered softly, not missing the slightest beat. "You're the one who sought me out afterward."

Flabbergasted she was so prepared with her answer, he straightened and forced himself to more thoroughly consider his responses.

"Don't act as though you weren't waiting for me," he replied, a little too much heat in his voice. "You knew I would come to you."

"I knew I was a beautiful woman and that I had stood against you." She crossed her arms, a cocky sort of pride settling in her features. "I knew how to manipulate men."

For some reason, her words sparked fire within him. "Are you admitting you manipulated me? Or are you saying I wasn't the first man you lured into a helpless desire of you?"

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "So, you _did_ desire me."

"Of course, I desired you!" he shouted, his hands gesturing wildly in front of him. "If I hadn't had a proper upbringing, I'd have begged you to let me have you right then and there!"

When she spun away from him, her red locks swirling in a flare of fury, he sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.

What on earth was happening?

"Katrina, I desire you," he whispered in a much calmer tone. "But I also adore you. You said it yourself, you stood against me. I'd never before met a more proud and courageous woman. Of course, I would seek you out."

Ready to be done with this whole ordeal, he cleared the distance between them and stood just out of touch behind her.

"Every minute, the deeper we fell into conversation, the more I wanted to know you." He sighed and reached out to brush his fingers through her hair. "The desire for your body was constantly there, but it was also joined by the increasing desire to know more of who you were; your past and your dreams for the future. I wanted to know every thought in your head and every desire in your heart and I wanted to meet those desires more than I wanted anything else, _including_ your body."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice low and cracked. "I'm just so... I hardly feel right any longer. My own body betrays me daily and... I'm so worried you won't make love to me any longer as the due date for the baby grows closer and as my natural form continually disappears."

"Katrina." He wrapped his arms about her waist and slipped his head into the crook of her neck as a means to lay kisses against her skin. "What must I do to prove to you how deep and desperate my longing for you runs? I crave your body night and day; without cease."

She turned her face against his, searching out his lips in a kiss that was warm enough to allow him to relax. To think, he'd only just been wondering if he was being loving and supportive enough when it came to her needs. Surely, he deserved some sort of medal for his test this night.

Pressing his body harder against hers, allowing her to feel the heat she caused within him, he trailed his lips to her ear and whispered, "Are you still worried I may not desire you?"

Her breaths were coming in quick gasps now as her fingers clasped around his wrist, directing his hand up her body. When his palm rested over her breast, he smiled and whispered, "I thought you were starving?"

She squeezed his arm as she rolled her hips back into his. "I am."

Unable to keep his groan of delight to himself, he began guiding her toward their bed, intent to never have her doubt his desire again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ichabod. At least, he's made it over halfway through this story. We shall see how he finishes handling what's left of the back half :)
> 
> Next up: Is ice cream enough to quell Katrina's wrath?


	10. Chapter 10

"Are you sure you're okay? Like at least eighty-five percent positive?"

Rolling his head across the pillow, the corner of his mouth lifted. "All in a day's work, Leftenant."

The roll of her eyes spoke volumes as to her lack of amusement.

"Tell that to the witch I just had to call and inform." Abbie gestured toward his face. "You look like you just faced off in the mma finals and got the crap beat out of you."

Ah, yes. Though, he was unsure of what the mma finals were exactly, he got the point. He was sure he looked awful and knew he felt even worse. His knuckles were still lightly bleeding as evidenced through the bandages and his nose felt as though it was swollen to twice its normal size. In all honesty, those were the least of his aches due to the pressing throb in his ribs telling him they were badly bruised and would likely give him trouble for some time to come.

This was, of course, all the result of his and Abbie's latest round in the battle to keep Sleepy Hollow free of being overrun by evil, a more trying task than he'd have imagined before today. At least, up to this point, neither of them had been hospitalized due to injury, save that one incident with the plague. They were now on a whole new playing field as the Wendigo they'd faced earlier in the night had taken none too kindly to the tazer he'd found in Abbie's glove compartment when his pistol had run out of ammunition. The beast had turned on him with a furious roar, catching him in the nose and knocking him clear across the Jeep. It had then taken to trampling him while Abbie fired from behind, desperate to remove the creature from his person.

"You've nothing to fear, Leftenant," he assured with a sigh. "Once Katrina sees me, she'll be so busy scolding me for my lack of informing her of my whereabouts as well as missing her doctor's appointment that she'll hardly notice my injuries." The thought brought on an unexpected headache. "It's highly likely she may add a few more of her own."

With a shake of her head, Abbie paced toward the window. "Good luck with that. Next time, we do it my way instead of rushing in their half cocked."

It was hard for him to admit he was actually afraid. However, the dampness under his armpits and over his brow told the story for him. Katrina was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, or on any given day to be honest. Her wrath could make the most staunch man quake in his boots. Though, he could hardly blame her this time as he _had_ neglected to inform her of the dangers involved in his day.

Knowing doom was surely approaching him, he allowed his eyes to wander over the tray of dinner the nurse had brought. The sight of the small cup of ice cream on the bedside table brought a small relief to his chest. "Oh, is that mine?"

"Yeah," Abbie said as she nodded toward the door. "But you might want to hold off on that."

"Ichabod?"

The small, rushed sound of her voice drew his gaze to the doorway where he found his wife, her eyes wide and worry filled, moving toward him with a brisk step.

"What has happened to you?" Her green eyes darted all about him as she reached out to run her fingers over his cheek. "Oh, my love."

Any movement brought a sting to his shoulder, but he pushed it aside as he lifted his hand to cover hers. "I assure you I'm fine."

Doubt laced her features as she ran her fingers over the bandages covering his arm, her eyes flickering from his head to his feet.

"I've had far worse, if you recall," he added lightly, hoping to draw a smile to her face.

It wasn't to be.

"This is no time to make light," she scolded, her gaze sharpening as those green eyes cut through him as surely as a knife would. "How did this happen?"

"It was my fault." Abbie stepped up to his other side. "I was unprepared and he paid the price."

"Oh, Abigail, I'm sure that is far from the truth." Katrina's eyes returned to slicing him to shreds. "Ichabod has a tendency to get himself caught up in situations he has no business being in."

"I'm a Witness-"

"And that gives you the right to act a fool?" She narrowed her eyes, effectively silencing his previous course. "Do not mince words with me. I know well enough who you are and what your role is."

He wanted to groan. He truly did. Then, after that, he wanted to roll off the bed in a tantrum to challenge all tantrums. She could be so condescending when she chose. It was an innate talent she possessed, but refused to acknowledge.

However, instead of doing all of that, he lowered his voice to bear one resembling a scolded child, the only reason being due to the hopes that she wouldn't interrupt him so long as he appeared a little regretful. "We were caught off guard by the power of the beast. We didn't foresee its strength."

"Yeah," Abbie added, the discomfort clear in her posture and voice as she ran her hands over the bed railing. "It was definitely hyped up on something."

Katrina glanced between the two of them, her hands leaving him altogether and crossing over her chest, her eyes cold as ice instead of the warm green he so adored.

Oh dear.

"And the reason you didn't inquire with me as to the facts regarding the creature...?"

He glanced at Abbie in the hopes of finding some common ground from which they could build only to find her avoiding Katrina's eyes altogether as she fiddled with the bar alongside his bed.

"We had books," he tentatively began only to be cut off by his wife's voice raising in pitch.

" _Books_!?" Katrina threw up her hands. "I'm a witch with personal experience in the supernatural. This has been my life since I was a girl and yet you chose to consult a book rather than your wife? It's a wonder you're even alive, Ichabod Crane. Then, to have gone and endangered Abigail as well in your foolishness!"

"Katrina," Abbie said, her eyes steady. "Crane and I make decisions together. He didn't endanger me."

One would think that would have put an end to Katrina's placing the blame solely on his shoulders, which was admittedly an accurate spot to place it, but it wasn't to be as she tilted her head, the fire in her eyes only sparking hotter.

"I'm sure he led you to believe that, but I know how persuasive he can be when he has his mind set on a certain path." She cut her eyes at him again, leaving him to feel like a small boy under her scolding. "He's a terrible influence where I've observed you to be more reserved and calm in your approach." Her gaze flickered back to Abbie, her eyes softening. "He doesn't deserve your defense in this instance, dear Abigail. I'm simply grateful you're not in the bed next to his."

"Right," Abbie muttered as she ran her hand over the back of her neck. "I'm gonna head down to the cafeteria and find something to eat." She pointed at Katrina. "You need anything?"

At tight smile thinned over Katrina's face. "Thank you, but no. I intend to stay here and feast on my husband's ego for a while."

Clipped and to the point rather than gracious. He internally winced with the knowledge that he was in deeper trouble than he would have imagined.

"Ok, then," Abbie said, backing toward the door. "I'll be back later."

"Leftenant," he called, wishing she wouldn't leave him and going so far as to endure shooting pain as he sat up to gesture toward his tray. "I have dinner here."

Abbie raised an eyebrow as she opened the door and slipped through it. "No, thanks."

With that, she pulled the door closed, leaving him alone with his very flushed, very vexed wife. Her still crossed arms were making him feel more tension from that gesture alone than he did in his whole body. She was certainly a menacing presence.

"My love, we had it all well in had until the very end." He pulled loose a bothersome cord that was caught beneath his arm. "I made the mistake by overlooking some vital information."

"You should have consulted me," she whispered, her eyes piercing his blankets the way he assumed she might do to him given the chance. "I may be carrying our child, but I'm not useless."

Taken aback by her train of thought, he watched doubt play out over her stormy features. Surely, she didn't assume he thought her useless? How many times had he praised her magic over the past weeks? All of the progress she'd made recently had been such a wonder to behold and he'd been doing his best to understand and comment on it with a supportive spirit.

"Of course, not," he protested while gently wrapping his fingers around her forearm and tugging her closer to the bed. "It wasn't anything reflecting against your abilities, Katrina. I simply can't stand the thought of you in harm's way."

"I don't need coddling," she groaned, frustration seeping from her as she gave a small stomp of her foot. "I was the leader of the most powerful coven in the colonies. I arranged all of your higher meetings. I made sure all was well with you." She lifted her shoulders and dropped them with a heavy sigh. "I know I'm being silly, but I just feel so utterly useless at times and seeing you so hurt brings me to shame when I know I could have helped prevent this."

"Katrina," he whispered as he smoothed his hand up and down her arm. "You're doing the bravest thing I could ever dream of. You're bringing a new life into the world."

"Something millions of women have done before me and millions will continue to do after I'm long gone," she countered, her discontent not lessening in the least. "It's nothing special."

"I beg to differ." He chuckled and brought her fingers to his lips. "No woman has ever brought forth such a special child, one borne of a witch and witness."

"Ichabod-"

"And I might say one so beautiful as ours will surely be." He raised an eyebrow. "We're both quite attractive, you know. The poor boys of Sleepy Hollow stand little chance of surviving her."

The fight she put up with her growing grin was admirable, but she lost it completely when he tapped her belly and said, "But she'll pay them no mind as her father forbids it."

Her laugh slipped through her lips, drawing his gaze to her shining eyes.

"All I ask is that her mother allow me the chance to make the world safer for her while she grows within her womb." When Katrina's smile faltered, he squeezed her hand. "I know you can handle yourself, perhaps even better than I handle myself, but is it so wrong that I want the chance to be able to protect my two loves? That I desire the purpose it gives me in life to defend and honor you?"

Katrina shifted her stance as her eyes lowered, a plethora of thoughts flickering in that sea of green. How he hoped she didn't oppose him on this point. It truly was a real reason he would rather she not involve herself in the matters he and Abbie tended to dive headfirst and blind into with little time for pause.

"You have to be more careful." She pulled his hand to lay over her belly, allowing his palm to press against the swollen place their child rested. "We won't survive without you."

"Come here," he whispered, tugging on her hand in an attempt to get her on the bed with him.

"I don't want to hurt you," she protested as he shifted over, ignoring his pain, and made room for her.

"Katrina." He caught her concerned eyes so she'd see how serious he was. "Come here."

A heavy sigh slipped through her nose as she hesitantly climbed onto the bed, being careful to avoid his wires. It took a bit of maneuvering and a great deal of care regarding his injuries, but they managed to make it work.

When she was finally situated beside him, he lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders so she could press against his side.

"Am I hurting you?" she whispered, her fingers fiddling with the blanket he'd pulled over her.

He cocked an eyebrow at the way she was laying, all stiff and hardly touching him. It was interesting how she picked and chose her times to be considerate. Minutes earlier, he'd been sure she'd wanted to lay hands on him and make him long for the previous injuries he'd sustained.

"I promise, you're not." He pressed a kiss to her head as he pushed her hair back. "It's mostly my right side that's hurt and it's really just a great deal of bruising more than anything else."

Her nod gave him the first relief he'd felt, prompting him to reach for the small cup of ice cream which was surely melting by this point.

"Here." He handed her the spoon as he held the cup out for her to take a bite. "It's the flavor you like."

She eyed the cup for a moment. "But it's yours."

Rolling his eyes, he impatiently shook the cup at her. " _Must_ you argue against my every word?"

With a huff, she relented and scooped a spoonful.

Satisfied she was eating, he asked, "How was your doctor's appointment?"

She twisted the spoon between her lips and shrugged.

Quite off put that she was unwilling to share, he whispered, "I'd have given anything to be there."

A small smile lit her face as she turned and brushed a kiss over his mouth, leaving the taste of vanilla on his lips.

"I heard the baby's heartbeat again." Her eyes flickered up to him. "I read in one of the baby books that she can hear my voice better than anyone else's."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Katrina nodded and scooped another spoonful of ice cream. "She can hear yours, too."

"Oh?" He ran his fingers over her belly, already having read the book she spoke of, but deciding against taking her moment to shine with knowledge of something modern. "Well, then, I might have to begin teaching her all my heathenness ways sooner than anticipated."

While Katrina merely laughed, he took this conversation to heart. So, he set the cup down and adjusted to rest his head against Katrina's chest.

"What are you doing?"

Tracing his fingers over her swollen belly, he began singing,

_"Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,_

_Smiles awake you when you rise;_

_Sleep pretty wantons, do not cry,_

_And I will sing a lullaby,_

_Rock them, rock them, lullaby._

_Care is heavy, therefore sleep you,_

_You are care, and care must keep you;_

_Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,_

_And I will sing a lullaby,_

_Rock them, rock them, lullaby."_

By the time he had reached the end of the poem, her fingers had began to soothingly run through his hair and her breathing had calmed to a steady rhythm.

"What was that?" she whispered, her fingers scratching over the back of his neck.

He pressed a kiss to her skin before lifting his head to rest on the pillow next to hers. "She'll have to learn my voice somehow."

Her smile was bright as she lifted a hand to caress his cheek. "I love you."

If this was what it took to make her smile, he'd face a dozen demons of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Katrina accompanies Ichabod to work. Encounters with Caroline and Abraham. There may just be a little jealousy from one of the Crane's.
> 
> Note: The poem is Cradle Song by Thomas Dekker; 1603.
> 
> Also, someone asked about Jenny. She was supposed to be in a previous chapter, but, as it sometimes happens, I hated what I'd written and scrapped it for another idea. I'm sure she'll pop up soon, though. Apart from Katrina, she's my favorite to write about which is why I like making them friends. Though, that could be due to the cute friendship between Katia and Lyndie more than anything to do with the characters ;)
> 
> One more thing: thanks for the reviews that have been given. They can be really great when you feel like your story is horrible or uninteresting. So, thanks again for the kind words :)


	11. Chapter 11

"Here you are, love."

Green eyes flickered up from the book in her lap, which she'd been ensconced in since earlier in the morning while tucked away in the small corner of the bookstore he'd shown her to upon their arrival. For the greater part of the day, she'd been curled up in the soft leather chair, her feet drawn under her and her nose buried in a novel.

"Oh," she whispered, setting her book over the arm of the chair and lifting her hands to accept the warm mug. "What is it?"

He propped himself on the opposite arm rest. "Hot chocolate."

The steam rising from the liquid seemed to give her pause, but she carefully tilted the mug, taking a sip and allowing it to sit on her tongue for a moment before she swallowed. When she pulled away, she had a small marshmallow mustache to accompany her wide eyes.

"This is wonderful!" She glanced up at him, her eyes bright with the happiness he so enjoyed bringing to her. "Ichabod, if you don't stop feeding me so many tasty treats, I'll never recover my natural weight."

Chuckling, he dug an elbow into the back of the chair and leaned over to brush a kiss to her forehead. "You're beautiful."

"I feel like a cow." She wiggled around a bit. "I'm not sure I'll make it another month."

"I have the utmost faith in you, my love."

Her green eyes narrowed at him, leaving him with a sweet thrill from seeing the playfulness in her gaze.

"I'll have you know, Mr. Crane, that we agreed to have no more lies between us. That includes the kind that are meant to spare feelings."

Hand held over his heart, he returned, "I swear on my honor that I speak the solemn truth."

She raised an eyebrow as she swirled the hot liquid in the cup. "If you say so."

"I do," he answered while running his fingers along the back of her neck. "Are you doing well over here on your own?"

"Oh, I am." She tapped her book. "I've been enjoying the quiet atmosphere."

"It has been rather slow today due to the weather." He cast a look toward the front window, of which he could just see the top. "There's a light rain that's been rather consistent throughout the day."

"Mhm."

Eyes back on her, he found her taking another sip of the hot chocolate.

"I'm glad you accompanied me today."

A smile came to her face as she leaned her head back against his arm and stared up at him. "As am I. I enjoy listening to you talk to the various people who visit. You seem to take such joy from speaking with them."

Unable to help himself, he descended toward her and pressed his lips to hers, enjoying the sweet taste that rested there.

He honestly could spend the entirety of the day doing just this and nothing else. It wasn't in his nature to say he'd become lazy, but in comparison to how little time he'd had to lounge around during the century in which he was born, he found it was something with which he now struggled. When not facing the impending apocalypse, he either spent his time here at the bookstore, or at the cabin with Katrina. Here, he experienced a rather slow atmosphere what with people popping in and out throughout the day, mostly with a quiet presence about them. On the other hand, when he was at the cabin, he and Katrina tended to read or take long walks together throughout the surrounding woods, enjoying the beautiful scenery with which they were encompassed. All in all, he remained content in his new life for the most part. The only problem was that he worried it was promoting laziness on his end.

When her fingers began weaving through his hair, he felt himself begin to get carried away as his hands, too, began wandering over her body, perhaps a little too close to certain areas for public display.

"How much longer before we can return home?" The fingers of her free hand tangled in the front of his shirt. "I find myself desperate for your touch."

Grinning against her lips, he took to trailing down her neck; kissing every inch of skin he could reach. "There's no one here."

"Ichabod!" Eyes wide, she pulled back to stare at him, her mouth agape. "Did you knock your head against the edge of the counter?"

"That's what I was wondering."

Startled by the intruding presence, he jerked around to find Jenny Mills standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her face bearing a smirk.

"Miss Jenny!" he exclaimed, reclaiming his footing in a frenzied manner while doing his best to straighten his clothing. "I didn't hear the door."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "I like sneaking up on people. You learn things."

Straightening his shoulders, and doing his best to return to his natural coloring, he asked, "Have you finally decided to return your overdue book?"

She rolled her eyes and began digging in her bag before producing the book she'd borrowed from the store three weeks prior.

"Don't have a cow over it," she muttered as she tossed it to him. "It's not like there's a horde of people interested in the origins of the Four Horseman clamoring to buy this book."

As he prepared an appropriate retort, Katrina said, "It's wonderful to see you, Jennifer."

His retort was lost as Katrina attempted to rock forward and stand. However, she seemed to be struggling, prompting him to quickly set aside the book and hold out a hand as an offer of assistance.

"Thank you, my love." She took a deep breath as she reached to hug Jenny, who appeared a bit taken aback by the gesture. "It's been ages since we've spoken."

Jenny cast him a curious glance to which he could only shrug.

For the past few weeks, Katrina had taken to extending her affection much more frequently than he was accustomed to witnessing; be it to Abbie, Mrs. O'Conner, or even Dr. Stevens. He wasn't sure if this was a new leaf being turned on her part, or if this was somehow pregnancy related. Either way, he wasn't itching to douse the newfound trait being exhibited by his wife.

"Yeah," Jenny responded as she took a step back. "I've been out of town on some jobs I took to earn a little extra cash."

"Nothing too dangerous, I hope." He raised an eyebrow. "Or illegal."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "None of your beeswax."

Katrina, having adjusted her blouse around her belly, asked, "I hope you won't venture too far away again anytime soon. We have a rather important event fast approaching."

"When is the little gremlin due?" Jenny eyed Katrina's belly. "You must be ready to be rid of the Crane lodged inside you."

While Katrina chuckled, he took great offence. "Our daughter is a witch, not a goblin, and I'll have you know that we will be regarding her with the awe that comes with being such a unique and beautiful creature. She deserves no less than our utmost respect and attention."

Jenny's gaze turned to him as though he had two heads.

"Ichabod." Katrina laid a gentle hand to his arm. "Perhaps, you might need to take a deep breath."

Doing so, he turned to her with an apologetic regard. "I might have exaggerated a few words."

"You think?" Jenny smirked. "It would seem Katrina's not the only one who's hormones are out of whack."

About to tear into her again, he felt Katrina's fingers tighten as she spoke, "It would be wonderful if you and Abigail would allow us to prepare the two of you dinner one evening this week. You've both done so much for Ichabod and I. It would be an honor and privilege of ours to treat you to a home cooked meal in return for your unending kindness."

Flabbergasted, he turned to Katrina with a horrified plea for her to cease such invitations. "I'm sure Miss Jenny is busy what with all of her delinquent behavior."

"Actually," Jenny cut in with a raised hand. "I'm completely free. Just name the day."

Unable to help floundering around a bit, he watched as a brilliant smile spread over his wife's face.

"Would tomorrow evening be alright?" She nodded to the door. "Hopefully, evil will give us a reprieve and not interrupt."

This was unacceptable. Abbie, yes; she deserved home cooked meals every night of the week for her unending willingness to extend her kindness. Her sister, on the other hand, did little other than shoot at random demons, while heckling him over any little thing she could think of. It was as though she took some sort of perverse pleasure out of teasing him without end.

But what could he say? Since meeting the younger Mills sister, his wife had decided she needed to become a mother of sorts toward her; disregarding the fact that only five years rested between them in natural age. He wasn't sure what it was that prompted such a response from Katrina, but he was not a fan of playing this role as it meant he would be forced to either endure the relationship, or spend the time away from his beloved; something he was quite unwilling to do.

"Perfect." Jenny began backing toward the door. "But I have to get back to work. See you guys tomorrow."

As Katrina bid her farewell, he turned to her, gathering as much of his disapproval as possible and allowing it to seep from his body.

When she finally met his eyes, a smile spread over her face and she waved a hand at him. "Not a word."

Hardly able to contain flailing about like a child mid-tantrum, he plopped into the seat and rested his head in his hands. "But, my love, I don't understand the interest in seeking out Jenny Mills as a guest. The two of you have little in common."

"She needs this friendship as desperately as I do." She laid her hand to his shoulder. "You and Abigail have each other to confide in."

Lifting his head, he took her hand in his own and brought it to his mouth. "You can confide in me. There's nothing you need fear discussing with me."

Katrina smiled at him as though she were speaking to a small child. "I can't only have you to confide in, my love. Sometimes, I need to vent my feelings to someone who won't coddle me."

"I don't coddle you," he tersely replied, only to watch her raise an eyebrow which caused him to deflate quite a bit and add a muttered, "All the time."

She pushed him back so she could maneuver between his legs and take a seat in his lap, which he happily accepted as it allowed him the luxury of inhaling her scent as he pleased.

"Ichabod," she began, her voice taking on that tone that told him he was about to be lectured. "I haven't had a friend in over two centuries."

Well, that made him feel horrible, but she just didn't understand.

"And you deserve a friend, but Miss Jenny is hardly the appropriate choice."

"You underestimate her." As she ran her fingers through his hair, she shook her head. "She's a much more intuitive and caring person than you give her credit as being. When I look at her, I see a young woman, brave and strong, but in desperate need of love and acceptance."

With a weary sigh, he kissed her knuckles again. "Be that as it may, the two of you are as opposite as two people can be. You're a wife and mother and all around responsible adult who was willing to risk everything for love. She's-"

"A woman who risked her own life and happiness to protect her sister." She threaded their fingers together. "I'd say the two of us have more in common than the surface might present."

Having no response and honestly wondering why he even tried, he dropped his head against the back of the chair as an exasperated sigh slipped heavily through his lips.

The stubbornness of this woman astounded him. Just when he thought he might have the opportunity to exhibit his superiority over her, she pulled the rug from beneath his feet. It was a truly aggravating way of being defeated, but what else could he do except admit the obvious?

"I surrender."

"I knew I married an intelligent man."

Cracking an eye open to find her grinning like a mad woman, he rolled his eyes and tugged her close, giving him the opportunity to press a kiss to her lips; one that he intended to enjoy as compensation for his loss. However, before he could truly absorb the sweetness of her lips, the door jingled, alerting him to his newest customer.

With a groan of regret at having to part from her, he helped her to her feet before aiding her in reclaiming her earlier seat.

"I'll return as soon as I'm able."

"Take your time," she answered as she reached for her book. "I'll be here."

Content that she was content, he hurried up the aisle to the front counter. To his surprise, however, it wasn't a customer, but Miss Caroline, weighed down with a package in her arms.

"Oh, Miss Caroline," he exclaimed as he hurried to relieve her. "This is an unexpected surprise."

A giddy laugh escaped her as she straightened her blouse. "It's been a few months since you visited the camp. So, I thought I might seek you out with the gifts I prepared you."

"Gifts?" He frowned as he looked over the package. "You've brought me a gift?"

"Well, yes." She hurried forward and opened the box, which, to his delightful surprise, held a few items of clothing that were too familiar to ignore. "I felt so horrible we didn't have your size the last time you visited. So, I sewed you a few things myself."

"Oh, well, that's..."

He was at a loss for words over such a kindness. For her to have labored over such a thing for him was truly a thoughtfulness he hadn't expected.

"Miss Caroline, you're generosity knows no bounds." He ran his fingers over the materials. "I shall treasure these gifts."

A bright smile overtook her as she shrugged her shoulders. "I was also sort of hoping you might allow me to cook you some of my recipes I've learned. They're genuine eighteenth century meals."

Meeting her hopeful eyes, he asked, "You wish to prepare me a meal?"

"Yes." She stepped forward and laid a hand over his. "I've never met anyone like you before, Ichabod. You're dedication to colonial reenactment is so impressive. You never break character."

"Well, one might say it's a way of life," he answered, unsure of how to approach this particular subject.

He couldn't just say he wasn't reenacting a thing; that he was simply being himself and reacting in the familiar way in which he was raised.

"It's inspiring and to be honest..." Caroline took a step closer, enough that he could smell the flowery perfume she adorned. "Attractive."

Startled by such a description being handed out in regards to him, his eyes widened and he began floundering for a response. "Oh, uhm, no. Miss Caroline, words cannot express how flattered I am."

"Then, don't use words," she answered as she began moving even closer; too close to ignore the implications of what she intended.

At his wit's end, he stuttered out the thing with which he should have began this conversation. "I'm a married man."

"That he is."

Both his and Caroline's eyes widened as far as they could as they turned to find Katrina, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed, as she stood a dozen feet away.

"Katrina!" he exclaimed, only to realize he was still in the grasp of Caroline's hand, prompting him to quickly disengage from her and step toward his obviously suspicious wife. "I thought you were in the back."

Her eyes flickered from him to Caroline, daggers shooting at both of them. "I've moved to the front."

Becoming entirely too fidgety to have done nothing inappropriate, he wrung out his hands and nodded to Caroline. "This is Miss Caroline, a dear friend, who I made the acquaintance of some months ago."

"Mhm."

Oh dear. She wasn't being polite, which meant he wasn't just in hot water, but boiling. He could practically feel the flames licking up his collar.

"This is my wife, Miss Caroline," he said as he gestured toward Katrina. "Katrina Crane."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Caroline began as she, too, became fidgety. "You were living alone and you never mentioned having a wife and... and there were no photographs and I just assumed you were single, or separated, or widowed."

That truly only made the water more scalding.

"Katrina was out of town." He glanced at Katrina, who's hands were resting on her belly, as she stared at him with raised eyebrows. "But she's thankfully returned to be with me for which I am most grateful."

"Oh my God." Caroline held up a hand. "You're pregnant." She, then, turned to him with wide, surprised eyes. "You're having a baby."

"Yes," he quickly responded with the brightest smile he could muster. "A little girl."

"Holy Franklin." Caroline spun on her heel and waved at Katrina. "Congratulation, Mrs. Crane. I'm-" She sighed as though having just run a mile. "So sorry for the misunderstanding."

Katrina forced a smile. "From what I can tell, it's hardly your fault, Miss Caroline. After all, my husband never mentioned me."

With that, her eyes cut at him with a blazing heat that should surely have liquefied him on the spot. So much for her desire for his touch when they returned home.

"Yeah, well, I uh, guess I should be going then." Caroline gestured toward the clothes. "I hope you, uh... Is that alright?"

With a glance at Katrina, he figured he was already a dead man. He might as well have new funeral attire to bid him farewell in this life.

"Yes, thank you for your thoughtfulness, Miss Caroline."

"Sure, anytime." She nodded to Katrina. "It was... nice to meet you, Mrs. Crane. You're uh, very lucky."

Chancing a look at Katrina, he found her still forcing that same smile as she responded with a terse, "One would think."

Unable to help clearing his throat in an attempt to dislodge the knot currently stuck there, he waved after Caroline as she hurried out the front door, leaving it to jingle and close in her wake.

Would it be too much to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness? Of course, he'd done nothing wrong as he'd been completely unaware of Miss Caroline's affections, but that didn't stop the wild beating of his heart as he felt impeding doom weighing down on him.

"Well?"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he said, "I can hardly be blamed for the unwanted advances of the young woman."

When he turned to face his wife, he bristled. She was red and she was angry. There was no way he was slipping out of this one with flattering words.

"I'm well aware of the fairer sexes interests and advances upon you, Ichabod Crane. I've been observing it since before we married." She took a step toward him. "However, you could have prevented this entirely."

Sputtering for words, he lifted a finger only to have it slapped down.

"Don't you _dare_ attempt to begin a lecture of me," she scolded, her eyes blazing. " _You_ are the one who failed to mention me."

Frustrated by her accusation, he answered, "What was I to say, Katrina? How was I to explain your whereabouts?"

She rolled her eyes and started for the door.

"Katrina! It's nearly dark out!"

She spun on her heel, her narrowed eyes causing his breath to hitch. "I am a witch, Ichabod, who can take care of herself. I don't always have to have you coddling me."

With that, she stormed out the door, leaving him to stand in the wake of her departure, completely floored by the past few minutes' occurrences.

* * *

For the next half hour, he did little other than stare at that very same door.

The battle between whether to chase after her and apologize, or wait for _her_ to return and apologize waged within him. It simply wasn't fair. He'd done nothing wrong! This whole situation was entirely over exaggerated. He was a victim if anything. There he'd been, content with kissing his wife, and in had walked a woman who'd made unwanted advances upon him. How was he to blame? What had he done to deserve such heat from his beloved?

Night had fully set in a few minutes earlier and he was beginning to fidget with his sleeves. It was too late for her to be out on her own. Regardless of the situation, he couldn't leave her out there while knowing the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

Quickly rounding the counter, he made for the door and went about checking the diner and the archives as well as the baby shop they both loved exploring. After having not found her in the obvious places, his worry began to deepen. What if something had happened to her? What if she'd become scared and lost? There was still so much of the town she'd not encountered. What if someone had steered her wrong? Or even brought her to harm?

Now, after venturing inside the church in the hopes that she was seeking out forgiveness for her horrible temper, he found himself at a loss. Where could she be?

As he stood out on the front church steps, he contemplated that perhaps she'd returned to the bookstore and he'd simply missed her on the street. Just as he was about to descend the steps, he heard the neigh of a horse around the corner.

The graveyard.

Heart leaping into his throat, he hurried down the steps only to see a flash of light shoot across the sidewalk, originating from the side of the church.

As he rounded the corner, he came up short at the sight of Katrina, hands extended with light seeping from them, standing before Death, himself, who was writhing on the ground, his horse a few feet away, hooves stomping against the earth.

"Katrina!"

Taking the longest strides he could manage, he dashed toward her, his breathing labored as he feared the worst.

"You leave us be, Abraham," she shouted as she clenched her fist, the light brightening and causing Death to lurch into the fetal position. "I am not your, or anyone's, property to bargain and exchange."

Finally reaching her side, he stood, hands within inches of her, but not touching as he was afraid of breaking her spell.

"We must leave now, my love." He stared at Death, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "Before..."

He didn't want to finish the thought aloud, but he feared her energy would begin to seep and waver, leaving them vulnerable to attack. With no means or weapon to defend her, he knew they would both become victim's of Death's wrath.

"If you interfere with my family again," she growled fiercely. "You will regret it for the remainder of your miserable existence."

With that, she began moving with him toward the sidewalk, her eyes remaining on the prone form of the Horseman as her light began seeping away, leaving him to finally take a breath, or, at least, that's what he assumed as the creatures chest began moving as though panting.

By the time, they'd rounded the corner, the Horseman had began to move again, prompting him to take Katrina's hand as he quickened his steps in the direction of the busier sidewalk across the street. The whole way, while casting nervous glances over his shoulder, his grip remained tight, fearing she might slip from his fingers any second. The moment their feet touched the sidewalk and they became immersed among other people, he finally looked at her.

She was pale, her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, and she looked to be on the verge of collapse. It was enough to spike further fear in his heart.

"Let us return to the bookstore," he said, with another cautious glance over his shoulder. "You need to sit down."

As he unlocked and pushed the door open, he quickly led her to the nearest seat, which happened to be a sofa close to the register.

"Here," he whispered as he took her by her shoulders and helped her ease into the cushions while being mindful of the place their daughter rested.

Taking a knee in front of her, he began running his hands down her arms and over her legs, checking for any physical signs of injury. "Did he harm you?"

She shook her head, her body sagging forward. "I'm fine, Ichabod. It simply winded me to use so much of my power in one go."

Not having her down play this, he maneuvered onto the sofa next to her and brushed her hair over her ear. "What happened?"

"I'm not even sure where he came from." She rested back into the cushions. "I entered the graveyard as a means to find somewhere familiar and quiet to think. I must have sat there for quite some time because I became too content in my surroundings and I suppose I dropped my guard. Then, the next thing I registered was his horse appearing out of nowhere and him stalking toward me."

Every muscle in his body was poised to attack. If only he could put hands on Abraham van Brunt, himself. He'd tear him to shreds and feed him to the dogs.

"I reacted as quickly as possible," she explained as she ran her hands down her arms. "I just knew he was going to attempt stealing me away."

A small quiver appearing over her body drew his attention, prompting him to move closer and wrap his arm around her shoulders to pull her against his chest.

"It would have been the last action he ever took." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so sorry."

"You're hardly the one to blame," she whispered as her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt. "I never should have stormed away as I did. It was childish and uncalled for."

Well, if that didn't make him feel guilty, nothing could.

"You're not the only one in the wrong." Adjusting them so he could catch her eyes while still holding her, he ran his fingers over her cheek. "This entire ordeal could have been prevented if only I'd had more tact. From this moment forward, every one I meet will know of the blessing I have in you."

She smiled and leaned into his neck. "I'm simply glad I'd been practicing with my endurance. It kept both the baby and I safe."

Dropping his eyes to her belly, he ran his fingers over her shirt. "Is she well?"

Her hand covered his, threading their fingers together over their most precious of creations. "Yes. We're both happy to be in your arms."

"As you always will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Baby names and choosing a color for the nursery.


	12. Chapter 12

"You know, Kat, I'm just not sure that's the best color now that I see it."

Nearly ready to combust, he dropped his paint brush and spun on his heel to face his greatest foe of the day.

"Do you not have somewhere else to be?" He flung a hand toward the door. "Doing something illegal, perhaps?"

Jenny crossed her arms, a self satisfied smirk making its way over her face. "Nah."

The amount of restraint it took to not throw her out of the house was causing the vein in his forehead to throb. Why on earth Katrina had invited the two of them to dinner was beyond him. They'd been planning to paint the second bedroom in the cabin for a week now and on the very day they'd chosen to do so, Katrina had bumped into Jenny outside the hardware store and invited her to dinner... again. As if once wasn't enough.

Why God hated him so deeply was perplexing to him. Was he not a chosen Witness of the Apocalypse? Appointed by God himself? Surely, he rated high enough with his Creator to be spared these small trials in patience.

"The blue is what Katrina chose as she plans to do something special with the room," he grit out between clenched teeth, praying the last of his patience didn't slip any further.

As Jenny rolled her eyes, Katrina laid a hand to his arm and pointed to a spot he'd missed. "It's beautiful, my love."

The gentle spirit about her as her eyes danced over the room managed to quell the pressure in his chest. To see her so happy and content with their daughter's soon to be room fulfilled a great deal of his wishes for this life. If only such wishes could be fulfilled with just the two of them present.

"So, what is it you're going to do that's so special?" Jenny nudged the painter's tray away with the tip of her shoe. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with blue, but it tends to be a boy's color."

Katrina smiled as she gestured for him to dip the other brush in the white paint. "It's a surprise." When he handed it to her, she nodded to the door. "Now, the two of you go set the table and drag Abigail away from her phone. I'll call for you when I'm finished."

The wide eyed stare that overtook Jenny brought a small grin to his lips.

"We can't just leave you to paint. The fumes probably aren't good for the baby to begin with and, besides that, you're more so waddling these days than walking. How are you going to paint?"

With a sigh, he kissed Katrina's cheek and nodded for the door. "All of these arguments have already been lost, Miss Jenny. It's best to just do as she requests."

Pausing to hold the door open, he smiled at Katrina as Jenny glanced from one to the other as though they'd both lost their minds.

"Whatever," she mumbled as she slipped past him through the door.

"If you need anything..."

She grinned, that brilliant smile of hers warming him all over again. "I know."

Unable to help chuckling, he pulled the door closed and turned to the two sets of brown eyes boring holes into him, heaps of accusation already hurtling forth at him without the first word yet being spoken.

"You're just leaving her alone in there?" Jenny asked, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. "Crane, she's huge."

Whether he should take offence at that or not was a big question in his mind, but he figured Jenny wasn't wrong. Katrina _was_ rather prominently pregnant. Whether it was getting out of the bathtub, or standing from the bed, he tended to have to be there to attend to her needs. There was truly little she could do in terms of bending over or with other taken for granted tasks. She'd even been amazed by the fact that she couldn't see her toes when looking straight down.

"Thank you for informing me," he muttered as he moved to the kitchen, intent to see his wife's requests through. "But I'm more than aware of my wife's form."

Jenny scoffed as she dropped into her chair. "There's letting her have her pride and then there's letting her loose where she has no business being loose."

"I hate to agree with my sister on this, but she's right." Abbie took a seat at the table. "Katrina shouldn't be taxing herself this late in her pregnancy."

"She's a witch-"

"And you're whipped," Jenny cut in. "I know you like giving her every little thing she wants, but this is ridiculous."

It took all of his self-restraint to not throw the pot of rice he was moving to the table at the younger Mills sister.

"She's not taxing herself," he argued, choosing to disregard Jenny's words all together. "She's using magic to perform some sort of spell over the room. She promised me she would be standing perfectly still."

"Oh." Abbie sunk further back in her chair. "Well, doesn't magic take a lot out of her, too, though?"

He began transferring the other pots to the table. "No, not since she's been practicing. She said it's once again become as second nature as walking."

"Well, that's not saying much. In case you haven't noticed, she's not walking so much as waddling these days." The glare he cast next should have burned Jenny Mills where she sat, but all it did was make her cross her arms again. "Am I wrong?"

Tossing the dishtowel on the table, he stood straighter and gestured to the room which held his beloved. "Do either of you truly think I'd allow her in harm's way?"

Abbie interrupted the beginnings of Jenny's reply and said, "Crane, come on, of course not. We're just looking out for her." She shrugged as though her next words should have been obvious. "We care about her, too."

Effectively calmed, he deflated, all his energy spent for the day. It truly was comforting to know that if anything ever befell him, Katrina would still have others in her life to care for her; to, perhaps, even love her as family would. However, at the same time, it was aggravating that no one took his word for anything. Lost as he may have been upon entrance to modern society and their way of doing things, he was a fast learner and he knew how to care for his wife. There was no one he'd studied more.

"I appreciate your concern, and I'm sure Katrina will as well, but all is well in hand." He rearranged a few of the pots. "We were up for half the night discussing this and she was adamant that she would be fine. I'm choosing to honor her by trusting her judgment."

Abbie sunk back into her chair, something he was grateful to see. At least, his friend knew him well enough to accept his word, especially when it came to his wife. However, the other, less accommodating sister, still looked ready to argue. Thankfully, before any further words could be exchanged, the door to the bedroom opened, revealing Katrina's glowing face.

"It's finished."

His surprise over the quickness of her work did nothing to stop his eagerness to see the finished product. Swiftly clearing the distance between them, he lifted his hand to brush her hair over her ear.

"That didn't take long."

Katrina's smile brightened. "As I said it wouldn't."

His doubt would never be heard by the others.

"Well?" Jenny asked, her voice causing him to jump as she was suddenly right at his ear. "Can we see what all the fuss was about or what?"

With an amused laugh, Katrina took his hand as she pulled the door shut behind her. "Not quite. Night is required for it to properly work."

"What?" Jenny exclaimed, her voice laced with disbelief. "All of this and we're not even allowed to see it?"

"Eager, Jenny?" Abbie asked with a chuckle. "You seem more excited about it than Crane."

Jenny grumbled as she returned to her seat and plopped down in it, her disgruntlement evident.

"It won't be long," Katrina assured as she reached for her seat. "I'm sure as soon as we're done with dinner, it'll be ready."

Quickly slipping by her, he gripped the chair to pull it out for her. "Allow me, my love."

Taking her by the hand, he placed his other hand at her back and helped her ease into the chair, careful to keep her positioned right. The last thing he wanted was for the chair to slip away from her.

"Thank you," she whispered as she settled.

Satisfied she was alright, he took the seat next to hers and glanced around the table. "I hope this is an edible meal. I've not exactly been the most attentive toward it with all the small projects we've had throughout the day."

"What is it?" Jenny asked as she leaned forward to lift the lid on the pot.

"Chicken and rice." Reaching for Katrina's hand, he added, "It's what Katrina wanted."

A 'hmm' was the only reply he received, prompting him to clear his throat and hold his hand out to Abbie. "Shall we give thanks?"

The last time they'd had dinner, Jenny had been less than accepting of their giving thanks for their meal, something he'd considered strange as she was born into a religious family. Then again, as her life had been one of continual strife and heartache, he couldn't blame her resistance. Under such circumstances, he surely would have felt the same.

Hands joined around the table, their thanks was given, leaving them with the blessing of their meal. However, once the food was actually on everyone's plates, he became self conscious. There were few things he'd taken to enjoying as much as cooking in this new era of his life. Preparing meals for Katrina was one of his favorite daily tasks. Others' opinions of his skills, on the other hand, left him feeling less than adequate.

"I'm scared to eat this," Jenny said as she stared at her plate.

"Ichabod's actually become quite the cook," Katrina replied, a small measure of defense mixed into the kindness in her voice. "I look forward to the meals he daily prepares me."

How he loved his wife. Class hiding that fire that never ceased burning within her.

"Yeah," Abbie added as she took the first bite. "All he talks about when we're not on a case are baby things and food channels."

"Yes, yes." He shifted in discomfort while wishing someone would comment on the actual wellness of his food. "Have your amusement at my expense."

Katrina's hand found his under the table as Abbie nodded her head side to side, clearly testing the flavors. He wasn't quite sure what he'd do if she spit all right back out.

"Alright, I'm eating with y'all every evening."

Relief flood his system in ways he hoped wasn't evident to the rest of the table.

"It could be worse, " Jenny said as she reached for her water. "Not half bad for an old guy."

The headache that woman could give was worse than a long night of sleeping through a blizzard with nothing but the thin coverings of one's tent to ward it off.

"Ok, so, I'm dying to know," Abbie said, leaning closer to the table after a few minutes, her gaze on Katrina. "What's her name going to be?"

A heavy sigh slipped between his lips. The woman never quit. He'd told her at least a dozen times that there was no name.

"Crane's being tight lipped about it." Abbie narrowed her eyes at him. "But, with only a couple of weeks left, there's no way there aren't names in the works."

Katrina laughed as she set her fork down. "Actually, we've decided to wait until we meet her to choose a name."

"Seriously?" Jenny asked, her brow knit tight. "You really haven't picked one?"

"Well, we don't know her yet," Katrina explained. "I want to see her and hold her before anything definite is decided."

"But there are names, though, right?" Abbie prodded, causing him to chuckle at her relentlessness. "One's to choose from?"

"I suppose you'll have to wait and see," Katrina teased as she reclaimed her fork.

Amused over the sisters' desire to be in the know, he watched the identical expressions of disappointment flicker over their faces.

"What if it's not even a girl?" Jenny waved her hand. "It's been known to happen that a different sex pops out in the delivery room every now and then."

A momentary worry swept over him, but thankfully Katrina had the answer. "We're positive it's a girl. I knew it before we were ever told by the doctor."

"Uh huh and what about twin girls?" Jenny cast him a smirk. "That's been known to happen as well."

Oh, dear God, life surely wouldn't do such a thing to him, would it? Twin girls? He was positive one newborn was going to cause him to become unraveled, but two? He'd have to have his own hospital bed to collapse upon beside Katrina's. That wasn't to say he'd be opposed to two daughters, but that he simply wasn't sure he was prepared to see such a thing come to pass with the first one. He needed preparation... and experience.

"There's only one little girl," Katrina assured with a squeeze to his hand. "There are no doubts."

Finally breathing, he took comfort in her touch. There was no one who could reassure him more than his wife. If only he could keep her hand in his at all times.

"Alright, enough's enough. We've eaten and it's semi dark outside." Jenny dropped her napkin on the table as she stood. "I have to see it before I go crazy."

Once again, he desperately wished Katrina had chosen another night to have the sister's over. This was a private moment he wished to cherish, not an exhibit of magical abilities for all to see. However, Katrina only laughed, as she always did with Jenny, and looked to him with a warm smile.

Groaning at the entire situation, he pushed his chair back. "Very well. Let's just all share in the experience. It's not as though there's such a thing as privacy any longer."

As he pulled out Katrina's chair, Jenny raised an eyebrow. "We gave you privacy to make the kid."

"You weren't even a thought in the mind of your great-great..." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "However many great grandmother's it was when our daughter was created."

"Well, then, she gave you privacy, didn't she?"

His entire face tightened as he attempted to remain composed. She was bating him. He knew it. However, he'd never been the best at stepping around such situations.

"Ichabod and I are happy to share in this experience." Katrina took him by the hand and began leading him toward the door. "But if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to show him first."

The sweetness his wife could permit into her voice while she was giving an order or request was the reason they rarely argued. How could one argue with her when she did that?

"That's cool," Abbie said as she grabbed her sister's arm. "We'll give you a few minutes."

Katrina smiled at them before she turned to him. "It'll be a bit strange for you to take in at first, but, I assure you, once you get past the magic of it, you'll love it."

That only increased his anxiety and eagerness. He hadn't the slightest idea of what to expect as she led him through the door, but, the moment he discovered it, he found himself abruptly coming to a stop.

Magic.

Never before had he seen such magic.

The room was moving; _actually moving_. It took him a moment's pause to grasp the concept of the outdoors actually indoors. To be honest, he still wasn't sure he was fully grasping it.

"What...?"

"Is it too much?"

The nervousness in her voice pulled his gaze from the ceiling to find her twisting her hands together with her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"I wasn't sure about the-"

Not bothering with words, he tenderly took her face in his hands and pressed into her, his lips seeking out hers. Truthfully, there were no words to describe the emotions welling in his chest.

Her hands crept up the sides of his shirt as she accepted him, her return of his kiss coming with a sigh of relief. It was in these moments he loved her most; the one's where she completely took him by surprise and made him realize how truly blessed he was to have her as his wife.

"What the hell?" he heard Jenny mutter behind him.

One bloody minute was all he wanted. Surely, a full one hadn't yet to pass.

"It's actually supposed to be more akin to heaven than hell," Katrina replied with a chuckle as she leaned away from him.

The ceiling, once white and plain, now twinkled with stars, the lights from them illuminating the small room. The blue walls, in the day so bright, now were a reflection of sky and ocean illuminated by the stars from the heavens.

"Yeah, uhm," Abbie tapped Katrina's shoulder, her eyes still plastered to the ceiling. "I'm gonna need to get you to come do this to my room."

"And mine," Jenny added as she touched the wall where the waters were gently rippling.

Katrina smiled as she turned back to him, her palms smoothing over his back as she whispered, "I thought you might like to tell her the stories of the different stars and constellations you love so much."

Such thoughtfulness filled him to the brim with love. For a while now, he'd wondered how he would connect with a daughter in the same manner as he would a son. What would he teach her that would set him apart from Katrina? What bonds would they form that were theirs alone? That Katrina would recognize his needs and meet them before he could even express them was something beyond love. It deserved an altogether different name.

"Mrs. Crane, you are..." He pressed his forehead to hers, simply breathing in the amazing woman that she was. "Everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of chapters left. I'll try to get them up asap :)
> 
> Next up: A baby for the Crane's.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updates. I've been without and still am without wifi in my new house. I had to type this whole thing out on my phone. I apologize in advance for any errors in the story. Enjoy!

"My love."

The blankets, the one's he cherished so dearly, who had so easily and willingly wrapped him in their warmth, were being pulled away from him.

"A few more minutes," he whispered, blindly reaching for his stolen comfort. "Just a few..."

"Ichabod, it's time."

A heavy grunt escaped him as he flipped onto his back and opened his eyes, the dimly lit room taking a moment to register as foreign. The unfamiliar blue gave him pause as the texture of the wooden walls he was so accustomed to in the cabin were absent.

"Ichabod." Katrina pushed at his shoulder. "The baby's coming with or without your rising."

The urgency in his wife's voice sorted out his attention.

"The baby..." he groggily whispered as his blurry vision settled on Katrina sitting up beside him, her face expectant. "The baby!"

Eyes popping open, the blankets he'd once cherished were thrown away as he rolled from the bed and began fumbling with his trousers. A new urgency was about him, one that had his mind working overtime with his attempts to clothe himself; something his frantic movements were doing nothing to help.

"We-we have to go, then." Hurrying around the bed, he struggled with the strings to tighten his trousers. "Are you alright?"

"My love, you needn't rush," she whispered as he took her hand to assist her in standing. "It's simply the beginning of what I can assure you is going to be a very long labor."

"L-long?" He knit his brow as the word settled on his tongue. "I thought you said she was coming."

"She is," Katrina answered as she calmly pointed at her clothing. "But she won't actually be here for some time."

Of course, he thought as he picked up the clothes she'd laid out. Time. Labor took time. He knew that; had read about it rather extensively. However, that didn't mean he wasn't going to panic. It was simply in his nature to do so. Since childhood, it was an ailment that followed him about like the plague, never leaving him be or allowing his mind to find a calm.

"Be that as it may," he began as he knelt in front of her. "I'd rather have you at the hospital sooner rather than later."

"Then, perhaps, you should go and awaken our means of transportation."  
Lifting his eyes to her, he frowned, having not a clue as to what she was going on about. "What?"

The way her lips curved spoke to her amusement over his state as she held tight to his shoulders and stepped into the sweat pants. "Abigail, my love."

The suggestive nod of her head toward the door prompted him to truly take in his surroundings for the first time since waking.

Blue walls.

Quilted blanket.

Rocking chair in the corner.

They were at Abbie's house!

"Oh," he replied a bit slowly as he stood and reached for her jacket, the cobwebs in his mind somewhat clearing.

"Of course."

They'd decided to remain at Abbie's house the day before as a means to be closer to the hospital and so they might actually have a means of getting there when Katrina said it was time. He wished he could take the credit for the forward thinking, but, alas, it was Abbie who had offered such clear logic.

"I'll go and do just that," he said, as he turned and hurriedly grabbed the bag they'd prepared. "Come, my love, let's get you to the door."

Katrina's hand pressed against his chest, pulling his gaze to find her smiling. "Just breathe."

At her request, he paused his frantic shuffling of both her and their things. "Forgive me, I'm-"

"It's alright," she whispered, her grin still in place. "But I assure you, I'm well. Go and find Abigail."

Nodding his consent, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "My haste is meant to be filled with love."

"As is my assurance that it isn't needed," she replied, pushing at his chest with a chuckle. "Now, go."

Quickly making his way to the door, he did his best to not rush, but found his feet disobeying his mental commands anyway. His daughter was coming. Today. In a few hours... or however long it took, he was going to be a father.

The idea of it attempted to bring a smile to his face, but he couldn't quite conjure it as his need to complete his mission of getting Katrina to the hospital before he could actually stop and appreciate those facts took precedence.

"Abbie!" he shouted, as he came to her door and repeatedly rapped his knuckles against it. "Abbie, it's time!"

When he didn't hear any response, he became nervous. What if he had to actually enter into her bedroom? He'd never been in there before. Was it appropriate? Would it be invasive? Somehow, he felt it was best to remain where he was.

"Abbie!" he called again, deciding against invading her personal space. "Ab-"

"I'm up," she muttered as her door flew open, revealing her to indeed be ready, if not a bit out of sorts.

Good. At least, he wasn't the only one feeling less that enthused by his daughter's choice of a time to arrive.

As Abbie walked past him, pulling her hair up as she went, she called, "Are you coming? Or are you just going to stand there and let me take care of your wife?"

Swiftly hoping into motion, he hurried after her. "Katrina said the baby won't come for some time."

"That doesn't mean we should just stand around like idiots." Abbie rounded the corner into their room. "Alright, come on, let's go."

The attitude Abbie was giving off could have easily been misconstrued as rude, but one look at her told him she was doing her best to maintain her calm demeanor. It was the lines along her brow that spoke to her anxiety; a giveaway of which he was pleased to be aware.

Once again satisfied he wasn't the only one on the verge of panic, he took Katrina's arm and began guiding her out the door.

By the time he had Katrina loaded into the front passenger seat, Abbie had dialed her sister and climbed behind the wheel.

"Yeah, I know it's the middle of the night, but you said to call you."

Rather sure Abbie's newer tone was due more to aggravation than anxiety, he chose to divert all of his attention to his wife.

"Is this alright, my love?" He checked her over as he buckled the seat belt. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

Katrina smiled, her head resting against the seat as she adjusted the strap. "I don't believe there's any preventing that."

Such knowledge did nothing to help his nerves. At a loss for anything else to do, he reluctantly closed her door and moved to his own.

"Everyone in?" Abbie asked, as she dropped her phone in the cup holder. "We have everything? I refuse to make a second trip."

He placed Katrina's bag beside him. "Yes."

"Good." Abbie began backing out of the driveway. "Then, let's get this show on the road. Mission Baby Crane is a go."

* * *

 

"Don't they know we're expecting a baby at any time?" He paced the waiting room, throwing the occasional glare toward the older, and in his opinion quite rude, nurse behind the front desk. "Shouldn't there be more urgency about this place? It's a hospital for God's sake!"

"Crane," Abbie growled, propping her head against her fist as she leaned over in the chair. "They're working on her a room."

Not to be silenced, he went on, "This is unquestionably the worst hospital I've ever visited." He halted his pacing to give Abbie his most pointed glare. "And I lived when they only had one room and burning candles to light their way."

"Crane, if you don't shut up-"

"My love," Katrina whispered, drawing his gaze from the daggers in Abbie's eyes to the hand Katrina was holding out toward him. "I need you with me."

The way her eyes pled with him to come to her had his feet moving before he'd taken his next breath. How could he not concede to such a wish? She was sitting there, her patience ever faithful and her discomfort clearly visible.

"Forgive me," he begged as he took the seat next to hers. "I've been no comfort to you at all."

Katrina's smile as she leaned her head to his shoulder successfully soothed his nerves enough to allow him to wrap an arm around her. "No, you've not."

Feeling like the worst kind of fool, he promised, "I'll not take my hand from yours again."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

The way her body trembled in his hold reignited his worry, prompting him to lean forward to catch a glimpse of her face. "Are you in much pain?"

She met his gaze, her expression pinched. "Our little girl isn't content to be within me any longer."

That information took hold of his heart and squeezed.

"Well, as soon as I'm done marveling over her, I'll have to give her a strong reprimanding for her behavior."

A smile came to Katrina's lips. "You're going to lecture her? I'll believe it when I see it."

"Oh, I will," he assured, before nodding his head side to side with a small measure of playfulness. "But perhaps a little more softly than previously stated."

"Hmm," she hummed as she resumed her place against him and closed her eyes. "I'm just ready to meet her."

Pressing a lingering kiss to her head, he agreed, "As am I."

* * *

Restless and more nervous than he can remember being in previous history, he picked at the sleeve of his shirt as he kept his eyes focused on Katrina's half hearted smile.

She was doing her best to keep her pain from showing. It was obvious in the way every so often, she would clench the sheets, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

Then, there was the way she would release a sharp breath every time Jenny turned away to speak to Abbie, her eyes falling closed as she turned her face into her pillow.

He observed it all and he endured it all, wishing with everything within him that he could offer her some means to prevent her pain. If he had it his way, he'd have run the sisters out some time ago.

However, he knew doing such a thing would only further upset his wife, leaving him to bear his frustration in silence.

 _Yes. In silence_.

Since Katrina had been brought into her own room, he'd made sure she was as comfortable as possible before stepping away and allowing the sisters to keep her company. They'd kept her amused, which alleviated a small measure of his worry... but only a small measure.

There was still so much that could happen between the present and the moment their daughter was with them. What if the baby was in the wrong position? What if something within his love stopped functioning? What if Katrina didn't survive the birth?

The last thought nearly brought him to his knees. What if he was left alone? What if he became the sole parent to their precious gift? How would he ever survive without his love?

Eyes falling closed, he slumped further down the wall and leaned his head back, praying he would never be faced with such a circumstance.

He wouldn't survive. At least, not in mind. Without Katrina, what light would be left to guide him? Who would he look to for the comforts only she provided? She knew him as no other did. She knew his deepest fears and his most loathsome thoughts. She knew every facet of his personality and how to manage his moods, both the pleasant and the volatile.

She was his love and his life. He'd called her the very air he breathed at times.

Without her, how would he breathe? How would he face the morning knowing she wouldn't be there to be his light? How would he raise their daughter, their gifted daughter, without her soothing presence? Without her gentle voice to ease his worry? Without her tender touch to calm his racing heart?

"Hey."

Eyes popping open, he lifted his head to find Abbie taking up the space next to him, her smaller form slouching down the wall to match him.

"Hello."

The crack in his voice caused him to flinch, his disdain for the emotions taking hold of him too evident for his liking. He loathed the times during which he knew his weakness was on full display. Such lack of control never sat well with him.

"You know," Abbie began, nodding her head toward the bed. "She'd probably like to hear she's not the only one who's terrified."

Shoulders slumping further down the wall, he nodded and found his hands to suddenly be of great intrigue. "I've never been so afraid."

It was the truth. Moloch, the Horseman, staring down the barrel of a gun loaded and aimed for his head; they all paled in comparison to the looming fear that seemed to have crawled within his being and taken up residence.

Abbie squeezed his arm in a familiar and affectionate way before stepping toward the door while gesturing toward her sister. "Hey, Jenny, I'm starving. Walk with me?"

The younger Mills sister vacated her place on the sofa which she'd been stretched across for the past three hours. "Only if you pay for mine, too."

Abbie muttered something he couldn't make out as the door closed behind them, leaving he and his love alone at last.

"My love?" Taking a deep breath, he turned to Katrina, who's glistening eyes were boring into him with silent pleading. "You should go, too. I know you're hungry."

Conjuring his best smile, he grabbed the back of a chair and dragged it to her bedside. "I'd rather be alone with you while I can."

A flash of pain flickered over her features as she pressed her pillow under her neck. It bothered him so deeply he moved to the edge of his seat and laid a hand over hers.

"Where do you want it?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, her lips thinning as she attempted to smile.

"You're _not_ ," he replied, the break in his voice hardly the greatest part of him revealing his worry as he felt himself very near on the edge of tears. "I can see how you're struggling. I can't stand it, Katrina."

The chill of her fingertips on his cheek drew his head to the side so he could press his lips to them, hoping the gesture might provide some measure of comfort for her.

"You're always thinking of me." Her smile finally broke through. "I'm so blessed to have you."

"I don't feel as though I do enough," he argued, his eyes falling closed as he felt the tears finally slipping down his cheeks. "This isn't fair to you."

"I'm sure if I asked you to breathe for me, you'd attempt to do that on top of all the other wonderful things you do for me."

Lips pressed to her palm, he whispered, "I wish I could take your discomfort."

His words were meant to be heroic, to be a reference to the fact that he was willing to do anything for her; go to any lengths to make her happy. The last thing he expected was her laughter. It was enough to snap his eyes open to find her head tilted back as she shook her head.

"What?"

She cast him an amused look. "Ichabod, if our roles were reversed, there'd be no end to the complaints and demands."

More than a little ruffled she'd say such a thing, he rolled his eyes. "I'll have you know, Mrs. Crane, that you are very..." He grinned. "Correct.

Glad to have finally brought a true smile to her lips, he threaded their fingers together and shared in her amusement.

"It's good to see you smile."

If it took making the biggest fool of himself the world had ever seen, he'd do it to see some of the weight lifted from her. Swallowing his pride was an easy task when it came to the love and understanding with which Katrina never ceased to provide him.

When her laughter finally died down, she whispered, "All I want is for you to stay with me."

Well, if that was all she asked in return for all she was giving him, who was he to deny her?

"I can do that."

"And maybe tell me a story," she added, her brow lifting. "You tell the best stories."

Pressing another kiss to her knuckles, he whispered, "Whatever you wish, my love."

* * *

Never in his life had he felt so helpless. As his wife struggled for her every breath, fought with every ounce of strength afforded to her, he was able to do no more than hold her hand with encouragements pouring from his lips.

"I can't do this," she panted, her head rolling back and forth. "It hurts."

At a loss for feeling any sort of usefulness, he smoothed his palm over her forehead and looked down the bed at the doctor and two nurses assisting him.

He'd yelled at them earlier and nearly had himself thrown from the room. The threat of his dismissal had brought around Katrina's pleas for him to not leave her, causing him to do his best to keep his voice restrained to only her vicinity. The last thing he wanted to do was be separated from her.

"Alright, Mrs. Crane," called the doctor, an older gentleman who looked like he already had one foot in the grave... a thought he may have mentioned aloud when scolding the man earlier. "Let's meet this little girl."

The next several minutes saw his hand begin to lose all feeling, something he did his best to keep from his face. Instead, he attempted to draw her attention to the fact that any moment now she'd have her greatest wish fulfilled; to hold their little girl.

"She's nearly here, my love," he whispered, while smoothing a hand over her sweat drenched hair. "You're doing so wonderful."

To see his wife in such dire need of relief fueled his desire to help her. Katrina wasn't one to complain or exaggerate her pain. She was a woman of steadfast strength and grace. So, to witness the tears leaking from her eyes as she sought out the help he cold not provide was torturous. To see her begging for his aid, for his intervention, paralyzed him with helplessness.

"Ichabod, I can't."

Squeezing her hand, he leaned closer and whispered, "Yes, you can. You're fearless, Katrina; the strongest person I know. Our daughter is going to be so blessed to have you as her mother. There'll be nothing in this world she'll fear facing due to the steadfast strength and love you'll teach her."

Her face contorted with pain as she followed the doctor's orders to keep pushing.

It felt like a lifetime of watching her fight. However, as he did, a steady admiration for his wife continued to grow.

To think that if Katrina had given birth in the time in which they were born, he wouldn't have experienced this with her. He'd have never been allowed the insight into all she was going through to give him a daughter; to give them a daughter. How many men had taken their wives for granted in what they did? How many men had missed the opportunity to see the strength their wives possessed?

"Alright, Katrina," the doctor called, his voice steady and calm. "We're nearly their. I just need one more strong push."

Katrina's body arched as she did what he considered the impossible. He didn't care how many women had birthed babies throughout history. His wife was amazing. The way she conjured another bout of energy to bring forth their daughter left him stunned.

As the doctor pulled away from Katrina and turned to the nurse, he kept a firm hold on his wife's hand even as he sought that first glimpse of his daughter he'd been longing to see for quite some time now.

It was then that he heard a sound he'd surely never forget. "Is she-?"

He wasn't sure what to even ask. Just the should of her had successfully robbed him of his thought processing ability. That squeal of discontent at being taken from her mother's womb; of being exposed to the harsh elements in the world; it was a sound like no other.

"Ichabod."

Eyes back on his wife, he found her lifting her head in an attempt to see their squealing baby; her face expectant with a smile tugging at her mouth.

"Is she alright?"

"She surely sounds it," he answered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You're amazing."

Katrina's breathing was still labored as she dropped her head back to the pillow with a smile, her fingers tightening around his. "I want to hold her."

"Yes, they're just..." He wasn't sure what was taking so long, but from what he could tell, they were simply checking their baby over. "Cleaning her up."

"I don't care," Katrina replied, rolling her head back and forth. "She's allowed to be as dirty as she likes. I just want to see her."

Unable to help his grin at her spirit, he turned to voice their wish just as the nurse came around the bed; a white blanket bundled in her arms.

"Well, well," the young nurse said as she paused beside him, prompting him to quickly stand; his attention already diverted to the bundle in her arms. "She's here, daddy."

So, she was.

Bright red and a head full of dark hair at that.

"Just be gentle with her head," the nurse instructed, as she began handing over his whimpering daughter.

"Oh, I-" He shook his head as he retreated a step. "Katrina should- I'm not-"

The nurse smiled. "You'll do fine. Just slip your hands under mine."

Doubting very much his ability to do this, his eyes darted from the nurse to his daughter.

"Here." The nurse took one of his hands and placed it under his daughter's head. "Just pull her close."

"I've never held a baby," he whispered, his voice teetering between terror and awe.

"Well, she's lucky to be your first," the nurse said, as she pulled away, leaving him holding his daughter with both hands, her small form pressed into his chest.

She was so light and he was sure she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever beheld. Her head full of hair stuck out every which way, causing him to smile as he held her closer. Everything about her was more than he'd ever wished for since learning she was to be his.

"Ichabod."

Katrina's voice pulled him from the spell in which he was caught.

With great care, he turned to her and bent a knee to allow her sight of their creation.

"Oh," she whispered, as she lifted a hand and stroked a finger over their daughter's cheek. "Look at her."

"Isn't she perfect?" he beamed, his pride not to be denied. "Do you still wish to hold her?"

In is mind, it hadn't been possible for Katrina's smile to spread any further. He should have known better. Katrina had always been in the habit of exceeding his expectations.

"I'm quite sure I've never had a greater wish."

Hardly able to disagree, he eased their daughter into his wife's arms, taking care to mind her head for surely he'd never held anything more fragile.

When Katrina had her, she laughed, the tinkle of it swelling his heart to the brink of exploding. Never in his life had he seen anything he wanted to be part of more.

"She's extraordinary," he said, leaning over the bed and pressing his lips to Katrina's hair. "You're both extraordinary."

Katrina lifted her free hand to lay against his neck as her eyes remained transfixed on their daughter. "Just as you are, my love."

Smiling against her skin, he dropped his gaze to their daughter's round face, splotchy and tinged pink as it was, but still perfect.

"We'd never have made it this far without you." Katrina shook her head as she leaned back to look at him. "You've made my deepest desires a reality."

The way she was looking at him spoke volumes to her happiness in this moment.

Despite what she'd gone through to bring such happiness into the world, she looked as light as he'd ever seen her.

"What's her name, my love?"

Her smile spread as her eyes once more found their baby girl. "I have the perfect one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Last chapter.


End file.
